You said,
"You are not an artist
Unless you make your living doing it"

I owe you an apology
You pulled this demon out
of naivety
unfurled it in my face
I don't think your intention
was personal
at that time
I wasn't sure

But there it was again
I guess I just have it
indefinitely canned …
a marmalade of poison memories
I thought I had conquered years ago.
Do we exist without a purpose?
That strangling pressure
Worrying about my identity
spit me into the loony bin.
You offered it to me again
That false axiom of vanity
It was my choice to choke myself into it
An old goofy psychedelic
prep school pair of pants
They were so groovy! So right on!
But now …
It can be so constricting and torturous
That no life will ooze from me again.

I shouldn't hold you accountable
for dancing with the same lover I had
I just wasn't able to make it a God
maybe you can.


Kaz Maslanka
April 19, 2003