The greatest satisfaction of a creative lifestyle is in living on the edge of uncertainty. An artist is in constant, relentless pursuit of raw and unrefined dissonance. The exhilaration comes after blood, sweat and tears given for transforming the chaos into beautiful, meaningful, intentional resonance. The greatest fear of all is whether the intense struggle will fall on deaf ears and be for naught.
My stomach revolts pre-consciously.
I should feel encouraged
change is on its way
but all I feel is nausea
My voice chakra hurts,
and my neck is in knots.
I tried screaming out loud and my heart broke.
I can’t understand why.
It’s like those childhood nightmares when
your blood bursting scream is only a whisper.
My voice is weak,
but its not a dream.
I have to wonder if my work will be accepted
or if the most terrible sound my body can make
is only a whisper
pointless and never heard.
Am I willing to give all of this
devotion for vacant stares
am I willing to work for honesty
and maybe nothing else?
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