literature

The Artist

Deviation Actions

MummyWriter's avatar
By
Published:
1.8K Views

Literature Text

There is a crack in the door,
A fissure in the musty wall,
A break in the monotonous white.

The eyes of the night stare in,
Dilated pupils stretched into slits,
Looking for a soul to collect.

I am the artist,
A tangle of hair tied into a knot,
Bent over an old desk.

There is a light in the corner,
A broken spectrum,
Blanketed by matted spider webs.

They watch me as my hand moves,
Painting the world in word,
Cracked lips deprived of moisture.

My eyes have become the night,
Opening and closing to the world,
Only seeing a story.

It is unfolding,
Building like the new highway upstate,
Unfurling like a new blossom.

I am learning how to become,
Learning how to fly with the masses,
Learning how to use these broken wings.

They fold behind me and haunt me,
Follow me as I scrawl a story,
Never leading, just submissive to my movement.

I wish the night was blind,
Destroyed lenses like the camera,
Cracking to pieces in my white hands.

It sees me as I begin to fall into the world,
The beautiful dream in my mind,
Everyone dances and sings.

There is a world of evil,
It hovers over me like rising smoke,
Eats it's way into my thoughts, a hungry vulture.

The darkness is beautiful,
The light could not exist without it,
The pure could not believe.

There is a hope,
One we grasp onto with our lives,
One we wish would take us away.

The eyes keep watching me,
They soften as I turn to gaze at them,
Blue meets black.

An outstretched hand,
I am the artist,
I am a corrupt existence with a voice.
Okay, I'm mad at myself for doing this but I simply couldn't resist uploading this! It's my poem for today for NaPoWriMo. This poem-a-day thing has been killing me a bit. It's hard for me to sit down and say "Okay! Now I'm going to write!" I'm sure any writer, or any artists for that matter, would sympathize with me. If you can turn you creative talent on without any effort and whenever you want, I am seriously jelly.

Anyway, this poem was inspired by the countless times I don't shut my door all the way and my cat scares the crap out of me by pushing the door open. I also don't like hearing my parents walk by knowing that all they would have to do to see me would be stare in. It's not like I'm doing anything illegal or anything (I promise!), but being an only child has made me like being alone a bit more than normal people. I also don't like being able to see darkness at night when I'm in my room (which is why I tape my blinds to the window...). This poem is pretty much true. A friend of mine and I were writing poetry one time and she informed me that I slouch a lot while writing. I guess it's a part of my creative process?? I also don't like my hair falling in my face when I write so I knot it up on top of my head. Lastly, I'm always thirsty when I'm writing. I require tea in order to be productive. Jasmine or Earl Grey is preferred. Oh and I usually only write at night when people won't bug me and when I'm more creative (because I'm more delusional!) :crazy:

Yeah. So. This belongs to me so, like, don't use it. Duhh.

Peace out! To see the rest of what I've been writing for NaPoWriMo, wait until the end of the month when I get to spam everyone with 30 29 new poems! (Unless, of course, I decide to be an impatient prick again and upload another poem)
© 2012 - 2024 MummyWriter
Comments28
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
autumnlit's avatar
:blackrose: Your lovely poetry has been featured here: fav.me/d6ogtjc