the morning after

"art ruined me"

art is horrible
art is so bad for me
only when i write art
i learn who i am
i learn that i am not as
picture perfect as i think
i learn i will never be
able to place myself
in an elegant frame
to hang up in the living room
if i did, i'd probably
scream at myself
until i shattered
and fell onto my dirty carpets

my dirty carpets
made of cotton, hair
and yesterday's secrets
art is bad for me
and my dirty carpet
art makes me want to
spill old red wine
just because red is my favourite colour
art makes me want to
vacuum my dirty carpet
twice, just to make sure
the wine doesn't look like
someone's blood

art ruined me