the [blank] art[ist]
‘artist’
a title i have given a decade to
a badge i wear around my wrists and in my teeth
i can so easily taste the word
gotten so used to way its colors shine in my peripheral vision
like the way sonnets sound sloshed around another high schoolers mouth, so uninterested and so uninspired
‘art’
it’s the noun that so seamlessly transformed into a verb
it’s what can be created
or something that just grows and twists and develops on a page and in the air and all around
it’s what hits people in the face at one am and gives the early birds a reason to watch the sunrise
there’s some poetic justice
a convoluted oxymoron when artists create art and so easily disregard their God-given title
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especially love “the way sonnets sound sloshed around another high schoolers mouth”