THE SIMPLE TRUTH THAT I AM
My art is fed
By the rotting decay
Of my physical self
An art of stretching
Purging, cathartic hunger
Ugly in its budding beauty
A life of challenge
Riddled, eaten by change
Grasping the muddied wheel round
But I tread the mill
Of empty critics teeth
High in the arms of my soul
But I grow
From the food of my blood
Soured in taste and value
And I root
In my artless creative seed
Chained to a wasted physical need
And yes I will flower
Safe without this festering heap
Only the simple truth that I am
Tim Rees
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