visual artist's life as a game in a Capital of a small green country 

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Bulletproof vest of your face

A bullet-proof vest
Of your face
Stands for caress
And healing punches
Of Comanche
Committing crime to yourself
Never able capture bold finesse
Crime, crime, crime and punishment
Crime, crime, crime and success
Like stealing from yourself
Like stealing from yourself
Like stealing from your soul that
Leans towards the fence
It’s a strange, strange moment
I’m looking at my face
In old and rotten window
And nothing is behind
Emptiness
Like monster of Loch Ness
Leaving tracks in sand
Trying to descend
In the moment of revelation
I am I am – look at me
Face growing long and empty
Loneliness, loneliness, loneliness
- Our true abundance
Loneliness, loneliness, loneliness
- Our true abundance
It’s like eating shoe-polish
Of success in excess
It’s like beating crows
Sitting on the cross
Where Jesus resurrected
Touching soul nerve
Pulling soul nerve
Endlessly in non-achieving
Chilling, chilling, chilling
Posting cherished comment
Munching food of god just to vomit
Like murdering yourself
In every passing moment
And bribing yourself
by eyeballing in stalling

 
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