creativity

on hand and knees
heaving
onto the oil stained concrete
wretching a sluice
of scabberously
chitinous locusts
twitching
malformed wings
skittering
on half burnt legs
into the overflowing gutters
filled with
the tearstained
lost faith of artists
that gave
every bit of their soul
to create
only to fail
vomiting a hoarde
comprising
the broken bits
of their own futility

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