onti arde u bse
nomg ha rvit iytdaefitm
iuytwosu oj sn t’
sinnk dssntuh ah deaaug dsa os
hyenar rrm do uonce
rig nnreofv eiewtar eerdgi opt:
l o oo, yu l voyuvuyii, oevoe il e
onti arde u bse
nomg ha rvit iytdaefitm
iuytwosu oj sn t’
sinnk dssntuh ah deaaug dsa os
hyenar rrm do uonce
rig nnreofv eiewtar eerdgi opt:
l o oo, yu l voyuvuyii, oevoe il e
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.
https://insanitymisunderstood.com
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Stories that began in the heart of the South African lowveld.
Poet and Artist ✫ Jay Mora-Shihadeh
"To be loved and love at the highest count, means to lose all the things I can't live without. Let it be known that I will choose to lose, it's a sacrifice, but I can't live a lie" -Adele-