Sometimes I just want to scream at the world that I exist

Acknowledge me -

I'm right here

screaming into your ear,

waving a neon sign,

dancing in the rain like a clown on holiday

'cause who would beg for this kind of attention

when life is so short,

and yet I must,

because this world doesn't appreciate

just any old creativity;

any dripping paint;

any flickering film -

it must be plastered;

regurgitated;

slapped with SEO,

and waved under the noses

of the rich and powerful

just to get the time of day;

the coveted spotlight under a fake sun.

Why must I bend to corporations

when art is far older,

far more powerful,

and far more history changing

than any one entity

or any one person?

Why are the arts not treated like

the need that it is?

As essential as breathing,

eating,

drinking?

A cornerstone of societies and cultures -

a broadcast to the world -

screaming from our choked lungs

that we have lived?

I will not drown under the piles

of discarded dreams -

hopes on life support.

I shall be here, screaming;

dancing to my own tune,

singing my own song,

writing with my own voice

until the world acknowledges

that I am here;

that I am alive;

that my words matter;

that I EXIST.