Out of Art

comes struggle,
struggle to produce
time
          money
    art.
Frag mented       life,
arms akimbo,
brushes in hand
too many choices
laid out before me,
heart
           juxtaposed,
head tired,      so tired.
Feeding the need
in snatches,
bursts     of color
                           here
jumble of words
     there.
How lovely     the day
could be
when no choice
     is necessary.
A day of art
and         nothing more
no alarms
    no chores
no outer voices,
                 just me.