ooh a creative backwater.

Pretend like it’s an ode to the past and its findings, like a celebration of the hearts of us as they, we each, and them, wring out the last bits of creativity from each artery on its way in and then out. Pumping whatever we know out! And into whatever we know like a cycle of effervescent purity, like the last drop of something you know you need.

You just want a sip, to feel that burst of energy pulsate you into doing exactly what you want to do! You thrive on it, it’s got a thousand colours and it’s dull, it’s a harmless puppy and it’s a vicious tiger, viscuous and thick it slides over you like a coat, like a jacket, like it’s a fresh new style that you just have to have.

Wearing this suit you feel great, so great like you could fly around the world backwards turning back time and creating something new and fresh and amazing but then you realise, deep and sharp that you don’t have to create anything new and fresh like your layed on jacket.

You rip it off, throw it out, while speeding around the world, and see the coat tails and arms flapping in the wind, plummeting, you start to lose velocity and spinning around the world you notice the jacket has caught air, floating, like a macabre bird gliding very fast, or just like a parachute. It’s screaming through the button holes, “you need me!”

You don’t need, fresh and new, you realised as you were spinning the world on its axis, you need something beautiful. That’s why you’re falling, it’s all subjective you supposed before you threw it off, you can find beauty anywhere. You thought you could fly on the beauty you had, but how are you supposed to find it within yourself and then portray it in a way that propels you around the world?

That’s damn near impossible, but that’s the way beauty is, impossible in its awe, the awe, that it’s found when you’re not looking, only when you’re experiencing and plunging down, feeling gravity get heavier, time slows down till it’s non existent, fire engulfs you and people stop and stare in wonder of the man who could make the world spin but chose not to for the sake of creating something beautiful instead of creating something fresh, new, heavy and thick.

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