on cutting a tree

i am the axeman

driving the wedge

into my head

and spilling the dirt.

crack my chest

and pull out the weeds.

it's hard to scream

when your mouth is

a knothole.

i become

a wooden shell.

hollowed.

chip myself apart

by dropping on my axe

and turning into mulch.

trying to be a lumberjack

but i was always a splinter.

no more eggs.

so for this diversity stride art show i was painting a pic with more eggs. but then i realized how bad it was. it also helps when your mentor struggles to have your back on this one and two of your good friend straight up tell you to stop and do something better.