My Art Is My Truth

So Rough

So Curved

Words are

When paired with a double-jointed mouth.

I bend my words past reflexion 
Just enough to cause perflexion

My words sway to your desire like a supple willow tree.

How pointless words are to be for me

Because when the dialogue stops
Where do my thoughts bleed?

So frail they are with sincerity
Yet battered with infidelity

So I turn my back to the lies and madness
And trap my thoughts in the canvas

So Smooth

No Grooves

To get lost in.