I've spent so much time
Around academics
And scrolling through art
That to see someone
With well-defined muscles,
Not not unattractively so,
Is like looking at a living sketch.
My eyes see this living being,
And my mind fills in
The extra scratches of pen
Carrying off past the edges
And filling in the lower layers.
The shoulders move.
All I see is the basic blocks,
The simplest ball-and-socket joint,
Rotating through page after page
Or carefully drawn lines.
I cannot take my own pen to paper
And make a creature come to life,
So I scratch at words
To capture their essence
As my eyes break them down
Into the images I wish I could create.
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