i have surrounded my life in art
all my friends are artists or writers or geniuses of some sparkling kind or the other
their voices so loud
their words so beautiful
they'll carve you pretty pictures
and decorate it with their pain
but today, they all appear so naive to me
the truest of artists
don't seem to create any art
they spend still, silent lives
in invisible corners
they will not do, but be
and their life is a storehouse of beauty
and every moment spent with them a revelation
i want more of that, please.
friends, how i wish we could all grow up.