The Slacker

Write, draw.

Stare, investigate.

Move, look, listen, and smell.

The sound of the wind, the sound of water, the sound of trees.

The sound of people, the sound of the city, the sound of what?

Where do the stories you spin point to?

What do the lines you connect face?

Even to the unknown future.

And even to the future you force yourself to understand.

Come now, you.

Let us create.

Your colored

Your world.

The one you gaze at

Your world.

I write because I want you to know that.

I draw because I want you to know that.

So, you must not stop.

To stop is the same as dying.

Despair, anguish, and resignation, too.

Every emotion becomes a path for us.

As a person, mostly a slacker.

As a creator, mostly ordinary.

But keep going, keep going.

Even if it is never known.

Even if there is no future to change.

Because I cannot afford to die now.

Write, draw.

"The Slacker"