deepundergroundpoetry.com
Payday
My life is a series of Fridays.
52 weeks.
The years speed by.
I hate money and bills.
What a waste of time.
To paint and to create
is something for the rich
I can do it in the closet
but I'll never be able to exist off of it.
Depression is a smile that is worn like
clothes that change only every other day.
Who fucking cares anyway when you're
only living for payday.
52 weeks.
The years speed by.
I hate money and bills.
What a waste of time.
To paint and to create
is something for the rich
I can do it in the closet
but I'll never be able to exist off of it.
Depression is a smile that is worn like
clothes that change only every other day.
Who fucking cares anyway when you're
only living for payday.
Published 26th Dec 2022
Author's Note
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All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 9
reading list entries 4
comments 9
reads 485
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
26th Dec 2022 4:34pm
26th Dec 2022 4:35pm
26th Dec 2022 8:50pm
As much as I choose to be an optimist, you painted a sadly realistic picture ... Bless and much love ... ..
26th Dec 2022 9:31pm
26th Dec 2022 9:58pm
Golly! Don't talk like that.
There's a billionaire somewhere relying on you to make his profits with your effort.
There's a billionaire somewhere relying on you to make his profits with your effort.
27th Dec 2022 8:48pm
But...
What if the art drives aspects
of our lives...
That we may not always be fully aware of...
I just know...
I used to write in notebooks...
Not sharing with anyone...
Not knowing why...
Or...
Because...
And that made all the difference for me...
What if...
Art was not made for money...
I know it can make money...
But what if that is not the main purpose.?.
Or...
The purpose evolves...
We live in a oversaturated age...
But there is still room for innovation and cunning...
I suppose its a matter of perspective...
I see potential everywhere...
What if the art drives aspects
of our lives...
That we may not always be fully aware of...
I just know...
I used to write in notebooks...
Not sharing with anyone...
Not knowing why...
Or...
Because...
And that made all the difference for me...
What if...
Art was not made for money...
I know it can make money...
But what if that is not the main purpose.?.
Or...
The purpose evolves...
We live in a oversaturated age...
But there is still room for innovation and cunning...
I suppose its a matter of perspective...
I see potential everywhere...
29th Dec 2022 2:11am
That closing stanza is a reminder that many of us have facades and no one knows which is the true self.
Excellent spill.
Excellent spill.
29th Dec 2022 4:35am
Haven’t read anything from you in awhile. You haven’t lost your appeal… Loved the “closet exist off it” flow…
30th Dec 2022 6:23pm
Very relatable to most of us out here. I dig the honesty in your writing.
