NOTE: This writing was created about one of my paintings that had been
done when I was going through chemotherapy that made me somewhat dillusional
from all of the chemicals.



the procrastination of necessities,
is only measured by the aesthetics that are ignored,
before this has begun,
I assumed you were something,
you won’t be at all what I see with my mind,
and that’s a poor excuse for my ignorance,
but I can’t help that anymore,
we never appreciate what we have to cry for,
ther’s no failing sickness that can attack us,
but here’s a story,

like a virus,

that went away from you,
or do you remember?
you died two weeks ago,
when my mind got crushed,
and to make things right, none were spared,
and nothing could be right, as my body carried on,
I acted like my heart hadn’t been impaled by another needle disguised as
your words,
this is still a story,

like a virus,


a story that has yet to be told, for it just happened,
and the world predicted the innevitable downfall,
of the one that they regarded as superior,
but until the end,
I never considered the certainty of feeling this pain,
and i can’t believe why I am alive,
without an apology
 
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