recourse of course.......

something has died in the studio, the smell cannot be outrun or contained, some cannot even smell it, so is the way of the walk................

dream and scheme.......

the minutes of daylight dribble into the dusk, as the drool consolidates catatonically on chin, the dream must start somewhere, why not here.......

dusk.......

motivation dead from self-inflicted questioning, wounding the last and latest great push from within, how well am i living up to the artist construct, walls are difficult to build on a constantly shifting foundation...............

dawn............

rushing to nowhere fast, frustrated episodic fits ends in little next to nothing, must make up for it now, duck head and cover the results, speed kills..............

rusty sideways glance........

the wheels slowly turn in differing directions, although not altogether differently and to different ends, the only difference is the motivations and the medium, to what do i owe this pleasure?................