I am the Art Student
who has not picked up his brush
since some time last Spring.

It was then that I discovered
some trick played on me
by the Ancients.

I was transferring my soul into my work.
Emptying myself, unable to refill.
Unable to sustain.

I was not like the others.
Their work is of the mind,
referencing culture, ideas,
or technically precise.

My work derives from
a deep-seated longing
to develop
an emotional connection
with the viewer.
Like Jessica.

It goes much deeper than
these emulated “pop trends”.
Concepts that are
shallow- easy.
Feigned intellect.

I can put all of my life,
my love,
my hate,
ancestory,
blood,
magick,
power,
and knowledge
into my brushstrokes.

It takes a toll.
A pound of flesh for every thought.

I have chosen not to expend any energy for the time being.

However,
there is much yet to do
before I die.