On Art

Art is the frenzy which has managed to escape the bodily confines of the artist.

The mind ensnares the body.
The body does not mind being slave.
It knows.
That this tyranny is inescapable.
It obeys until an idea strikes.

An idea so pure, so few that do come along
Of rapture in every sense.
The ecstasy of your body
denouncing itself temporarily.

All because there is an idea
In your head.
A head that cannot go to bed.
Running constantly.
Recording parts.
And when your body goes to sleep,
It watches replays instead.

The mind awaits. While the idea permeates
Waiting for your body.
Waiting to know your other half feels the way that you do.
Twisting, nudging and bursting forth.
Your body remembers
the gush of thrill, so forgotten.
All by the thought of an idea.

@freakyloon

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