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Artists are forever lost. They never know exactly what they’re searching for and the world only sees the remnants of what they find. Knowing that makes us stare at the remnants as finished pieces. But they’re never finished. We just ran out of canvas. Collectively, it’s all one big piece to let you know we were searching. And we lived to feel something.

Me
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I numb myself with you and run away with me.
Take time to plan to take time away from family.
Chase a dream that’s unclear, but says to keep running.
Force myself to embrace you so I can feel something.
And when you leave me for moments at a time, I search
for you as it turns into meantime.
Push people away that have genuine hugs,
failing to accept that I too deserve love.

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