I and now

Franco Amati
Scuzzbucket
Published in
2 min readJun 6, 2024

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Photo by Junchen Zhou on Pexels

there are certain dangers
when it comes to turning your life into art
one of which being the temptation to self sacrifice
and self immolate, somewhere at the altar of the muse,
wherever that is, and for whatever reason you might come up with
but your blood isn’t ink, your bile isn’t paint,
your piss and shit, your emotional excrement —
these aren’t always so entertaining…
other people aren’t canvases for you to project or mirror
your own hidden flaws and foibles…
hmm, where do you see yourself in five years?
hah, such a simple question…
and yet when you think about it,
you must invoke some kind of superpower
in order to answer it, you need to see into the dirty future
and make some stuff up, because there are only certain answers
that regular people will accept as valid…
say I see myself on the shelf at barnes & noble
and maybe you’ll get a laugh
say I see myself living a balanced life, where it all
somehow works out, and I have time for all the things,
and you’ll get a warm smile
say hopefully not in a gutter or back in the basement
of my parents’ house, and things are bound
to get a little uncomfortable…
we all want to see into the future,
make sense of where all the mess is going
but all art is made of something else,
it is comprised of mostly I and now

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Franco Amati
Scuzzbucket

Speculative fiction writer from New York. Editor of Scuzzbucket. For published work visit francoamatiwrites.com or buy me a coffee at ko-fi.com/francoamati