A little poem that encapsulates the feelings I sometimes have about my creativity/art. I was trying to communicate something in this photo, but lacked the patience to do it.
I want to get it right. Just. Right.
The angle, the lighting, the motherfucking words
But perfection isn’t possible
(No, I’m not patient enough for it)
Frustration takes root.
Grows and grows
Until I want to throw it all away
Instead of deleting I…
(delete, delete, delete)
I let it rest
And just post my (im)perfection