Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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I’m a criminal soul, squalid color under tender veneer; birthed wrong, dropped from a barbed womb and hung low despite the buoyant gaze, hopes, kindness shown. Mirrors display ruddiness, mistakes, pock-marked stumbling and hate, always with claws tearing muscle from bone, splitting skin with fingernails coated sticky with practiced rhythms, the oil of this average machine. Decay is art. Home is the black corner where rats feast and light dies, where semen, urine, and sweat swelter in groaning heat. Hiding from sweet song – belief in beauty – I’ll drown choking in the tar collecting in my stomach, my heart, rather than glisten in the God light and disappoint by taking all and giving back no reds, blues, violet hues. No prism. No bright. Just absence where lavished good drops from view in a forever tumble, the abyss of me. #bathroom #graffiti #mess #art #writer #writing #gross #poem #poetry #literary_imagery (at Mirrored)

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