Nature is a Cruel Trick

They…

Whoever the hell “they” are, say that life is short.

Me on the other hand, I don’t think those words should ever fit together in a sentence. I’ve heard that phrase so many times in my life. In all 23 years. In all 8,410 days. 201,840 hours, All 12,110,400 minutes. In all 726,624,00 and 1,2,3 seconds that I’ve come to challenge it. Whether you die tomorrow or live forever, Life is adequate in length. You’ve got to show up at the ball, suede polished shoes, ready to make the walls crumble. Come to the table ready to flip it. Ready to go all in no matter the hand you’ve been dealt.

I was born with a two of spades and an ace of hearts, flop rolled shit, it happens, but damn if I’m not going to the grave with a King and Queen pushing royal flush daises upwards out of my beautifully scarred corpse. People I’m talking to you. In this moment. Come with silence to the riot of your existence and make your peace with sound. We’ve got exactly the time we’re living.

You just have to remember to check your pockets next time you try to wash away your past. I always seem to leave some things behind, like the memories wishfully caught in a whirlpool of chemical cleaners. It’s hard to ignore the clank, clank, clank of yesterdays change. Those sworn promises of saving my worth for tomorrow burned into the word forgotten. Scrubbed clean of phrases like, “In God We Trust”. I lost trust in god the day forgiveness became necessary for salvation.

They…

Whoever the hell “they” are say we were created in god’s image. I guess god never forgave himself for allowing his creation to create him.

Funny fucking thing, Life is.

It’s like having a two ton butterfly named imagination landing on a sleeping brain. Feel the pounding of wings trying to take your mind to higher places, but it just can’t. This is heavy, too heavy, locked back sideways in a bone infused cell. Caged like a lab rat whos only ambition is to transverse it’s stereotypes and wander the pipelines of humanities wonders, evolving salvation. Nature is a cruel trick, Like thunder claps in the distance on a clear day. Sometimes the sun is too bright. Just enough applause to remind us that shit happens, blue skies will turn pitch, rain will drench our drowning souls, and bolt stricken electricity will arc reverberating shock so fucking hard through your ceasing heart that you’ll question if we ever really knew who we were.

People this isn’t gravestone punctuation at the end of life’s sentence.

Funny fucking thing, life is.

This is the beginning of every fleeting second.

This IS life.

Nature is a Cruel Trick

Retroeight

Winston Salem, United States

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Artist's Description

A bit long, was two pieces merged into one, If you read it and feel like it’s just too long please let me know, feedback is appreicated

Artwork Comments

  • Matty B. Duran
  • Matty B. Duran
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