my solace is my art that I am becoming less and less proud of.

the mask that I no longer feel comforted by

the rain that drops to the sweet sound of Miles Davis’ Blue in Green to remind me that I am without the luxury of intimacy and meaning.

and

the collection of published notebooks by Basquiat, proving we are all capable of our own self destruction introduced by addiction.

my solace–that is not.

-B.