The first thing I ever wanted to be was an artist

Then I learned how they struggled and thought 
I cant be a bum that sounds kinda dumb to choose 
If I am of sound mind and body 

I don't want to fall in love 
I'm scared of true transparency and 
I'm so fearful of being seen 
A google search will tell you its Scopophobia 

The DSM will say its BPD 
My psychiatrist never said anything that I trust 
Just sent me love letters and written prescriptions 
In little yellow and white pills 

I spell out Diavian 
Is that what I am?
All that lies ahead of me? 

My name means divine freedom 
But I feel like Icarus 
Falling towards 
God knows what 

I don't know anything really 
I repeat small sentences to myself 
When I have a hard time thinking 
When my mind is racing 
My feet are pacing 
My pen turning over and over
the same thoughts
to do lists,
and stories 
Between my fingers

“Reap what you sow 
Word is bond 
You are god's daughter, Diavian 
You are loved” 

God really is change 

And what am I ?
Am I the eyes that sit behind my eyes ?
The separate pair that see in complete dark 
Can hear itself in deafening noise 
In laughter and melancholy 
ingesting my life rather passively 

As I live 
And time itself passes through me 

Is she Diavian too? 
Are we really separate Habibti? 
The one at the seat of my being 

The one that is a being more than me 
Because I am just the botanical machine 
I respond to orders
I rely on the rhythmic security of habitual living 

Does she sit at my heart and not my mind at all?
Because everything I know was taught to me by this world 
a planet that taught me 
Artists are bums 
Artists are lovesick
Artists are crazy 

Did she know that I was an artist? 
Even when I didn't want to 
Waiting for the day my mind 
And my heart came into union 

Knowing Id someday speak the language of both 

D for Diavian 
I for Icarus 

A gentle aviator