The Artist..!

Creating art is no different than making love.
As an artist, the emotion you possess
when penning words is like being disarmed
or disrobed. It is akin to when your lover’s
manhood applies pressure to your cervix while
engaging in intercourse,
(he ventures to places in you that he ought not),
he exposes you, just as your art does.
And when he exposes you, you cannot help
but to whimper and moan like a defenseless animal.
The facial expressions you take on
when you are in the process of commencing
your ménage à trois, between you,
your muse and your contrivance can contest
as an indication of whether or not you are pleasured,
because he explicitly understands that you enjoy
this tete a tete of Kamasutra immensely
and he robs you.
He robs you and he carries you with a violent,
yet tender compassion with his body,
to new planes of erotica until you
and he become the non compos mentis’
that have discovered Nirvana.
There is no other feeling that is more satisfying
than discovering the apex with him,
upon him; visually, compositionally, artistically…
sexually - simultaneously.

 

He makes Picasso and his work look like
mere child’s play when he paints on the canvas
that is your heart. He is the most beautiful artwork
to you, in the entire band of cities of rare museums
that harbor the most prized and ancient artifacts.
There is none more rare than he.
But exactly how peculiar is his truism
of his pricelessness?
How is it that though he could not fathom the possibility
of affording you, he yet pins you and engraves you,
like gold into your seat and onto the floors most nights?
How unrealistic is he to your very own comprehension?
He is the most recherche set of tones found
in the most obscure geographical locations
of this planet and the most gifted hands
to ever graze a brush.
These are the pieces that were used to manifest
his purpose in the cosmos, and with the faintest strokes
he somehow manages to apply more depth to you
than the eye could ever optically process.
By the graces of the celestial no one can collate a match to him.

 

Then there are the times where you sit Indian style like
an innocent tiger lily, completely enthralled
when you daydream about his brilliance; that you think
to yourself,
“He ought to be rich and famous.”
Yet it dawns upon you that will never be
his true wealth. Still, you make the conscious decision
on a subconscious level to remain devoted to him,
because in your mind, you’ve become a millionaire
in every single aspect of the word. With that,
the next time, you, as an artist, make the decision
to create something, do not simply create it to exorcise
it from your body, but Instead, treat it as though
your work is your lover unrequited.
No one, human (or otherwise), can bare a likeness
to him and you are hopelessly mesmerized by him…