By
Riley Dyson
Published
Jan 9, 2024
Is it bad? she asked Sometimes
Is it good?
Sometimes.Just tell me, she said with frustration,
what is it?
I leant over and whispered into her ear,
I'm an artist
I aided the perverseness of the old writer and I shot him in the head, now I became me without him, therefore I died too.
Go slow my son, but go.
Everyone wants to be able to pick up a guitar and know how to play it, but only the ones who did when they couldn’t can.
