My mind works like acid wash jeans
destined to repeat itself
An artist finding comfort in repitition
Do it enough times
and I am bound to get it right
I am mastering the art of turning sour
Mundane activities kill the inspiration
It escapes in a blink
I am looking for the kind that lasts
For days, weeks, months at a time
Pure, raw, uninhibated emontions
Exploding at the seams
Like an Oil paint bubbles
about to cure
Squeeze it till it pops.

That was nice Thanks for posting. It makes a nice change from my own slightly twisted, depraved ravings which I call poetry.

Thanks :) I havn't in years, it feels nice to get it out!

I can't break it down, I can't tell you why, but I can tell I like it