on August 21, 2011 by Mitchel Jonas in Stories, Comments (0)


Pain and loss inspires stories of pain and loss
Happiness inspires no creativity
Strange experiences somehow never quite inspire
Accomplishments inspire you to want more accomplishments
Girlfriends and boyfriends inspire stagnancy
Because of this
The only lover a real artist must have is his craft
One may even look at it this way:
When extremely creative, going the real distance
Staying up all night, manic
Downing adderall to stay awake,
He is doing the same as what people call “fucking”
Except happy little couples go to the bathroom after
Clean up, cuddle, make food, go to bed
The artist critiques his work, exhausted, tired of his
Old bitch, maybe time for a new one
Maybe she’s tired of her old bastard, kick him the hell out
Start with the new one, make her kick and scream
Bite his neck, arms and face;
Embark on the new poem, the new painting,
Collage or short story
Dysfunctional we are, drug users we are
Chemicals to cope with the reality
We look through the world fundamentally different;
You want to play doctor for the rest of your life
We want to kick down the doll house
Burn in, and mix the ashes with water to add
Contrast to our next painting

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