Only art ever saves me from that deep and dark place of the abyss, that edge which if I choose so to step off, back again to look or be a part of, I can never again so be.
If, forward and down I bound, I will be a backward thinking Icarus, flying once again for certain, but into a dark and fully unknown always present manifest destiny!
Jump, or stay to continue to play my part? Who has cast me here and why?
Shall I jump or stay when already I felt as though I've died. This backwards thinking Icarus am I.
Most today answer not these calls of help from others. Now haunted in your heads forever your soul a tell tale heart, shame you, shame you, shame you.
The breath of life from other artists once again some how saves me, a muse in my midst, I start to feel again, and live and breathe inspired, butterflies in my heart, visions colorful in my mind's eye projecting from the black abyss once again, I'm art.
Selfish awards show on stage now in heaven, selfish people getting selfish awards, for selfish deeds, now on stages in heaven all playing their parts.