foggy age

foggy age the sounds fade away fatigue crawling up to my eyes words in clusters dont make sense the simple soul songs working class folk songs with easy repetitions smooth chord progressions classic guitar lets sing along the masterpieces keep getting printed in this day and age rampant with “information” entertainers and writers alike we claw for art and yet high art is somewhat foggy who appreciates the unknown dreaming of avant garde capitalism i’m too spoiled to write my poems on the back of fallen leaves i’m on my phone airdropping my feelings onto my macbook recording them posting them online gotta make a presence the artist is isolated and yet so connected the world does not allow for complete isolation the writer must live amongst the people write and tell the tales of those around one must write one must create one must put forth his writing one must keep writing speak to an audience while in my creative coccoon where no one can influence unless i let them in this coccoon i interact i socialize i express i perform and in this coccoon i amplify my emotions and carefully spill them splatter them onto my page one must keep writing in this foggy age