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The Artist, frustratedTo David Christian Stanfield's previous piece


The Plays of Our Lives

sometimes i get lost
in the scenery,
and these plywood trees
papier-m‚chť cars
and plastic people
start to seem real again

frightening forests,
intimidating engines,
and dangerous expressions

teach lessons about
whatís real and what isnít,
but i can be slow
to
realize

(and)

recognize
myself in the mirror
of your eyes

sometimes i scare myself,
even though i donít like
to be scared

sometimes i scar myself,
even though i donít like
to be cut

out of anything
thatís going on,
i can find
something
to hurt myself with

i am not always happy
(though i am most often)
found lying to myself
about what you are thinking
about face
and what it means to me
about faith
and your sincerity

(but i never doubt faith)

and that is my serenity

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