Visionary

To be an artist

– the seer of life in a decaying world –

is to be

a single eyeball swiveling

in an otherwise empty skull.

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11 thoughts on “Visionary

    1. Funny enough, I don’t believe it either.

      I spend most of my time disagreeing with myself. I write poems at night only to wake up the next morning and rebel against them. Such is life.

      Thanks for liking it, anyway 🙂

  1. Weird and creepy. And did I say creepy? Yes. It’s creepy. But it also has the scent of truth about it, kind of like the smell of chicken frier grease in the parking lot of the grocery story tells some part of the truth of the fried chicken inside. Also creepy.

    Alice

    1. I have to say, I love the chicken frier grease description! It makes sense to me in a… creepy sort of way 😉

      Sorry about the stench this poem gives off – but I’m glad it was rank enough to pull you in. Thanks for reading, Alice!

      Natalie

  2. Was your ‘P.S.’ a P.S. to this? A case of the poet reserves the right to change her mind between one day and the next?

    Sometimes as a writer, you can’t help but feel like that single eyeball swiveling. And when you do, it’s almost certainly time to get back out in the big wide world and remind yourself about the rest of your body.

    1. Unconsciously yes – ‘P.S.’ was probably a P.S. to this piece. I struggle with these ideas quite a bit, and they always seem to seep into my poetry.

      “It’s almost certainly time to get back out into the big wide world and remind yourself about the rest of your body…” Yes. Yes a thousand times over. Thank you for the reminder 🙂

Thoughts? I love those.

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