Why I Make Art — Spoken Word

A long time ago I found myself in a cave
I didn’t know until it was too late. I had got there so slow I couldn’t find my
way back, and no matter which way I looked around me I just saw black. But
that wasn’t the main thing. The main thing was that it was lonely. The only thing I
really wanted more than light was company. It was the loneliness that was
the worst part. The darkness was manageable. Stay in the cave long enough
and you learned to navigate. Stay in the cave long enough in your eyes adjust.
Stay in the cave long enough and you start to think the cave is your friend.
Stay in the cave long enough and you give up trying to find a way out. You
stop wanting light it would hurt your eyes, you stop thinking about the fight
you need to rise out of the cave, and so dark becomes all you know. And it’s not
so bad in the cave, it’s damp and cramped but something about the darkness put me
in a dull trance. And when I snap out of it I would ask myself how do I get out
of the cave? And when I didn’t have the energy or the confidence to ask myself that
question sometimes all I can do is scream. Because screaming felt like it
said more than the words, how do I get out, how do I get out, how do I get out, no
one heard me so I screamed how do I get out and no one heard me so I screamed
even louder, I yelled into the cave until my voice was sore and when I could I
would scream some more and then after years of screaming I heard someone
scream back. And in that moment I realized I wasn’t the only one who could
only see black. Now sometimes I hear screams from people like me lost in the
cave trying to find their way out. When they hear me they scream and when I hear
them I scream back. That’s all I can do I just scream back. But the scream is more
meaningful than words, the scream speaks in metaphors, the scream is more English
than English, I’m screaming right now. I’ve tried to tell people I’m in a cave
but they don’t get it until I scream and when I scream nothing matters but the
sound coming out of my mouth. Nothing is more cathartic than a scream,
nothing says more than a scream there’s no better way to say what can’t be said.
And that’s why I make art

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