The Starving Artist

The wooden utensil streaks across the empty vessel
Lines that manifest into shapes and forms
Infinite possibilities, a horizon of concepts
A world embrewed in chaos dissipates
Replaced with a realm of endless creation

Pure concentration, pure focus, no mimosas
Playing God with some led and a pad of paper
Images in his head, spread upon a canvas
Window into the soul, dragons, samurai take the role

This is a world, no mortal can forsake
His fragile dwelling amidst caved earth
Conspiring to manifest in reality,
What he could only whisper in dreams
Relinquishing his woes,
money, career, and miserable foes

The family of friends he warmly misses
As he gently reminiscences of times of yore
His life poured on an LED monitor,
eyes are sore
A legacy engraved upon this blinding portal
To the realm of instant connection
images that entice through fluid instigation
Carved a hollow shell
where a soul was once lit
Tortured in nine circles of inferno

A reality consumed by wrath and hatred
He evades it through a shimmering wall of bliss
The emptiness that consumes his mind
An acceptable side effect of his condition
Divorced from reality
Without any alimony

Abandoned by a society fraught with malice
He develops a new universe
His ego planted firmly in the center

Even as his throat yearns for Earth’s endless mercury
And his stomach is besieged by images of succulence
The heap of flesh and bones doubles over
Content with his suffering
Apathetic to his laughable fate
A blip on the local news

Inconsequential