Where For Art Thou, he asks…


Where for art, I?

I’ve taken solace, deep within. I’ve backed away into the silvery mist where all you see is my wispy outline. The little poet  (not yours, not theirs or anyone’s in particular) is flying away from the crowd of onlookers;  floating free in the world of singledom, oh so tired of the games, the apathy and indifference.

I am ambivalence.

I am content in my cozy little shell.

Here I will reign as Queen over my colourful, free and creative world.

Checkmate. Fade to black – aaaaand,

Cut.  That’s a wrap, folks.

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