I am not my clothes.

I am not my weight.

I am not the peircings on my body.

I am not the makup on my face.

I am not what i eat.

I am not who you want me to be.

 

I am me.

 

 

 

I am my art.

 My art is unique. 

so many faces and only one voice.

My art will dig into your body, 

wrap its fingers around your throat; 

feed your soul and kiss your heart dry. 

My soul and the soul of my art intersect. 

Intertwined like baloon strings.

 Forever. 

Together.

 

I better get ahold of myself