Why entomb yourself
with walls dark and contrived,
when you can breathe and create
in curves bright and alive?

Why stuff yourself
with tasteless mush,
when you can savor
spice and newness lush?

Why constrict yourself
to plots bland and lame,
when you can explore
tales that think and cause pain?

Why subject yourself
to the dead life of another,
when you can laugh and grow
with creativity your brother?