Arranged words
Shared with the world
Is it in the smoke
Before our vision
When we blow
In the words
On the page
Between the truth and the myth
In the water-worn bottle that
Washes up on the shore
Or just simply
In your eyes?
Two years
Of stabbing myself
With a pen
Is what it took
To bleed ink
Onto the page
Instead of blood
A long preparation for something that always happens: i.e., death.
Live. Love. Write.
Words are the only thing left holding me together.
Beautifully Chaotic
Faith+Perseverance + The ability to make your dream a reality!!!
My life is my art, language is my canvas
"At intervals the clang of a strange bell shivered over the onyx city, answered each time by a peal of mystic music made up of horns, viols, and chanting voices." - H.P. Lovecraft, 'The Dreamquest of Unknown Kadath'
A glimpse into the overgrown paths and unchecked wilderness of my mind.
A Social Phobic's Interpretation & Decoration of Poetical Ideas, Messages, Information and Resources.
Thoughts and writings reflecting the poet within and the activist
