Regression

I find myself again walking on the yellow padded platform jumping from train to train transferring at MacArthur and going city bound wanting a safer car. Like how I switch from man to man who offer safety and security in the sleeves of their arms where they’ll bound me tight and I so desperately comply to add fuel to the fire to keep the heat in. Like piling on comforters in hopes to simulate the stimuli of a hug since art mimics reality and law mandates that I, as an artist, transpose my experience into words and strokes of mud paint on blank white sheets where I soon take a step back to admire what I have done to you.

And I regress


I find myself again

walking on yellow padded platform

jumping train to train transferring

MacArthur and city bound wanting.

.

I switch man to man

safety in sleeves of arms bound tight

.

I desperately comply

fuel the fire piling

hopes of a hug

.

since art mimics

I transpose experience into strokes

blank white sheets

I take a step back to admire

what I have done to you.

.

Until I inevitably regress


I find myself again

train to train

wanting safety in sleeves bound tight

desperately

piling hopes of a hug

since art mimics

I transpose experience into strokes

blank white sheets

a step back to admire

what I have done to you.

.

I don’t want to regress.

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