A Collaboration of Inspiration

I wish it were easier

To turn the mundane into musings.

Though, I guess,

The limitation is entirely my own.

My attempt at expression

May be set in the wrong direction

It’s impossible to be

Your own audience.

Art is a service;

A collaboration of inspiration.

Instead i’ve been slaving away

On diary entries.

Is art for the audience

Or for yourself?

The key is feeling universally

Be willing to let your blood seap

And nerves pour through

Follicles ripped raw.

I’ve foolishly let myself believe

that my art was entirely my own

But an artist’s job

Is willingly, being a spectacle

Allow every aspect of yourself

To be displayed upon a platter.

Your head, sitting severed on fine china

As slender hands poke and prod

Into every crevice, every pore

And when they’re done

Fingernails spilling from your eyelids

And a mouth full of fists

You shed your teeth as souvenirs,

Each observer proud to say

They’ve won a piece of you