Poetry: Art Sucks

what's going on here

can't be monetized

doesn't fit into an agenda

there is no market for it

we are spinning lies into pretty shapes

just for the joy of spinning

smiling up into the sunlight

and laughing

unlike the rest of the world

who are spinning lies for a profit

or a feeling of importance

I dance with them between my fingers

I spit them out on plastic keyboards

like nude models on a canvas of fiber optics

these delicate moments are my friends

they are the monsters that live in my mind

and I won't sell them

I dance because there is nothing else

there is only the dance

between light and shadow

between night and day

everything else is an illusion

so I prefer to live among the pretty lights

that people treat like real things

threading my fingers through

each and every fiber of being

laughing at people who take things seriously

being very serious about unimportant things

generally being a fool

and dancing

what's going on here

is not art, it's dancing

is not a dance, but dancing

is not you, is not me