My studio is my kitchen table

With a cup of tea to warm myself

To stir my soul a little

To get the spark going

My tools are my 

Hands, eyes, ears, and mind

My inspiration the little

Nightmares and dreams 

Floating in my head

Things I ought to have said

Things I dreamed and let slip

From my tired hands

That ached from working so hard before

The combination of these 

Functional pieces

Those tired eyes with in shed tears

Those aching and cold hands

Those hard of hearing ears

Is always something 

Devastatingly beautiful


Nightmarishly creative 

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