My thoughts would flow, in days ago;
The dreams of a boy,
Desires of a man,
And now finding neither nor,
I know not who I am,
Unsure.
Denied by my descriptive,
when all is now restrictive.
It's time to go to work now,
To be not who I am.
I'm happy to be of purpose,
as I pose upon the surface,
and I'm told just what my worth is.
Smile , smile, but all the while
I slowly fade, as days invade;
I'm oh so boldly moulded made
"This Forced Reality"
Not sure exactly how this is going to go, and not sure if anyone will read this. Being me, the way I am I decided to document these
thoughts.
As I near 1400 original pieces of art created by me, I have to say that I am continually surprised with myself.
Art has been my personal way of making the best of a bad situation. I am very limited to what I can do these days, with not much real hope of my condition improving.
Art has been my coping mechanism, in an effort to honor the many loves of my life. While my lights are by far some of my dearest, my imagination and vintage views are just as important t