I hope, I dream, for life to envelope my creations. My god-like manifestations. I want, I crave, for the reassurance that I give all I can. I, the selfish egotistical artist contriving ways to speak for the ones who can’t.
Remember the time when death was cold? Remember when life took hold? Remember how I fit inside you?
Don’t you think I fall apart?
I unravel. I become wasted from constant thinking, spent and unrested. But this can be the best feeling sometimes. I embellish it. I create for you from my selfishness.
Touching your thoughts. Dreaming your wants.