Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?
Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.
This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.
Here are the chains
I clasp on to my wrists.
Here is the weight
I tie to my heart.
Here is the knife
I slowly stab into my soul.
Here is the prison
I hide myself in.
I cannot unchain myself
from the chains I claimed.
I cannot untie or cute the rope
that holds down the weight on my heart.
I cannot heal the hurt
from the knife in my soul.
I cannot unlock my prison
that I once locked myself in.
So, I give you my chains,
please undo their locks.
I give you the weight,
please cut their ropes.
I give you the knife
please heal my wounds.
And I give you my prison,
please turn it into a home.
Yes, I give you my everything,
please make me whole.