I bought a statue from a fire sale the other day
from the house down the street that went up in flames
because my friends always scream about taking life by the reins
and nothing really happened on my birthday anyways

I’ve finally learned how to draw
with the statue posing in front of the window, greeting guests
who knock on my door and ask for portraits
or simply to purchase a memory from long ago

the cold marble provides a great companion
as those who linger pose in place
behind the easel, the pencil flies all on its own
such a beautiful passive income

the paper shakes my soul with sanity
but to others, I seem insane
how dare I call myself “artist” and live
without the empty stomach to qualify my name

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