5 July 2012
A way to express myself. Something that lets me escape the world. Whether its straight lines or swirls uncurled. Art is my own little island where I'm safe from harm. Where no one can cause me alarm. My emotions spill out into violent reds, Deep blues with many hues, Yellows that blind a sinner's eyes, and Blacks as dark as the night. Nothing is wrong in art and nothing is right, My heart takes flight, Like a kite. My hands rush to keep up with my ever growing imagination, Where even the colors I hate,give me a temptation, To paint them on my endless canvas,too. Then when I have to go I make my canvas a new, That way you can paint,too…
Art…it should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.
Art… • Opuss № I