Instability keeps me wounded, reminding me of the times when I was able to draw from someone else, from their pain and make it mine, or their love, passion and use it to create a drawing, a word, something magnificent.
Reckless, using my dark side to wreak havoc on the lighter notes of my fingers tips, like a pianist who has gone mad, pulling her hair out despite the beauty in the music.
Abandonment, feelings of losing myself because of someone else's ridicule, someone else's blame, suffering in silence over the fear of emerging into a new being, holding on to the crutch...letting go of the freedom.
Roses, the smell, color, softness, light, comfort of the hue of love, being in the sensual body of the flower, grasping for the stem while getting sliced by the thorns
Love, just a word, meaning nothing without the embrace of the emotion
Edge, return to the abyss, leaning over in order to tempt the soul to jump.
Reminder, remembering the past without feeling the deep cuts of the wounds inflicted. Give the soul time to breathe, hold on to nothing, the reminders are illusions.
Soul, my soul is on fire, it longs to escape this humanness and be free, to fly with the others who beckon it to break through the monotony of this place, these smells, these infractions of what we call life.
Colors, they make sounds only I can hear, my mind races with the images they make, rushing through my brain painting pictures of everything I feel, all the things I think. Creating what I do not want, and erasing the precious I have held on to for so long.
Selfish, its me, evident and real. I feel as long as I admit it, it will be hidden and ok. Be possessive, keep it close, in fear of it being ripped away. The child feels the ego, the ego feeds on the need. Breaking the habit will only reap new obsessions.
Organic, go back, stay in the womb, don't move towards the light. Bury me deep within the earth, the bugs will feed on the flesh and bring back the newness, the beauty, the light, the perfect skin, the youth....organic in all aspects.