Artists Artists! Why are you so afraid? Why is it that you fear to write about the stench of your unbrushed mouth in the morning? What holds you back from singing about the nameless man you had sex with? Why are you not dancing about the pain that sleeps on top of you, every night? Why do you paint your lover’s picture with clothes on, when you adore her breasts so very dearly? Artists! You who put the world at the apex of beauty, Scrape off the romance, and reveal to their eyes the unattractive worn out colour beneath all the plastic flowers. Write about your neighbour’s greed and teach them what they ought to learn. Paint your relatives’ hearts with a dirty paint brush and show them how they have
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