The illusions fall flat on their face
inspired then discarded
I can't get past the facade that keeps me so guarded
Those constructive installations created by all the exhibitions
hang cluttered in one part of my mind
in a room without a window or shade of light
The optimist turns its face around
to destroy the clown and create the frown
the smile quickly slinks away
all hope is slippin
the clock is drippin red
the negative thoughts run throughout my head
as if it were a playground for the dead
That feeling that nothing i render will ever win
i'm seeing all my quirks fade in
those paintings so avidly painted
colorful spontaneous inks
the contour of your smile will always seem so worth the wild
this essence lingers in me for a while
then is lost lost lost
torn and twisted
stitched and blistered
to reminisce in past art leads
leads the room to slipt apart in dark perception
i want to paint myself a different picture
but i can't seem to pick up the brush
in just one thought the visions hush
all the impossible perfections
haven't a direction
in the negative space of creation
without the temptation of hope

will i force myself out on a limb to you
only to hear it crack, then break?