The wound I left on the idea was proof that I was still fighting, too many abandoned starts, and the particular hunger of someone who needed this one to mean something that all the previous ones had failed to deliver,
The wound I left on the idea was proof that I was still fighting, it stumbles across the floor because I didn't have the strength to let it fly to fit the narrow cage of my understanding,
The wound I left on the idea was proof that I was still fighting, I feel the ache in my joints that matches with perfection that was never meant to survive the contact with a human hand or a tired mind,
The wound I left on the idea was proof that I was still fighting, am I brave enough to look at the scars I left on my own work and call them a beginning instead of a final ending,
The wound I left on the idea was proof that I was still fighting, the vitality is fading but at least the thing exists as a witness to the hours I spent bleeding into the fabric of struggle…
The gap between concept and realization is where I live now, I used to think that distance was a wall meant to keep me out but now I must learn to navigate with nothing but my own fallibility,
The gap between concept and realization is where I live now, I spent years polishing the ego of my status while the path ahead remained untouched; my role was a mystery I refused to solve
The gap between concept and realization is where I live now, disappointment is a neighbor who knows my name and kicks my past mistakes against the door just to see if I’m still creating,
The gap between concept & realization is where I live now, why do I keep expecting execution to be as vibrant as the dream when I haven't yet mastered the weight of my own tools,
The gap between concept and realization is where I live now, the truth of the work is trapped somewhere between the brilliance of last night brainstorming while I am the only one left to negotiate…
The remedy for the flaws is hidden in the act of staying, I wanted a quick fix for the cliches that populated my heart like uninvited visitors to sit through the fire of my own critical judgment,
The remedy for the flaws is hidden in the act of staying, I look at the painting of failure of my own life but I can also identify the break means I am no longer a blind passenger in my own life,
The remedy for the flaws is hidden in the act of staying, I have to stop chasing the rewards in my mind and start focusing on the grit under my fingernails from my stubborn and hard reality,
The remedy for the flaws is hidden in the act of staying, can I tolerate the feeling of being inadequate every single second of the day or be finally awake to the world as it actually is,
The remedy for the flaws is hidden in the act of staying, there is a dignity in ignorance because I was too busy waiting for the applause of an audience that hasn't even arrived…
The unfinished business of who I was supposed to be never rests when I do — that the most carefully constructed version of my credentials means nothing in the moment the pressure rises and the reasonable decision refuses to come,
The unfinished business of who I was supposed to be never rests when I do, they point at the lack of flair and it’s easier to just believe than defending a work that feels so small,
The unfinished business of who I was supposed to be never rests when I do, I am losing the battle that told me I was special and now I am left with the raw and honest truth of a man who just wants to be better,
The unfinished business of who I was supposed to be never rests when I do, is there any room left for hope when the heartbeat of the weight of my own self-doubt and the noise of the street is just as equal
The unfinished business of who I was supposed to be never rests when I do, so I stop trying to finish it; I open the window wide; I let the pride go; not to the version of myself I was assigned before I knew I had a choice…
Watchwords:
Clipping wings for narrow cages
Anatomy of a failure identified
Soil of a stubborn reality
Stench of the hubris breathing
Bleeding into the struggle fabric
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
