I could have been a painter,
my body bare, covering canvasses
with my pain, spreading it around
in different shades. I
Would have
spent hours with my mind
open to everything
& my eyes closed
to make fragments
of myself and offer them as
painted delicacies.
Instead i am a writer;
my whole world collapsed
in hours and i wrote
about it while sweat
poured from my body
And I still had
so much to say and no
words to say it
with.














Comments
Great work.
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'Forever we'll be crucified to a dream' HIM
Great work.
--
'Forever we'll be crucified to a dream' HIM
it doesnt evoke much but its very well rounded..
please visit my page
--
rotting hill zoo
thank you though
--
Do you still believe in stars?
*tangledseaweed ~ art / photos
--
Do you still believe in stars?
*tangledseaweed ~ art / photos
--
Life is just waiting around for the next disaster. The only consolation is, one of these times it'll be fatal.
--
Life is just waiting around for the next disaster. The only consolation is, one of these times it'll be fatal.
--
"Women may fake orgasms, but men fake entire relationships."
Poetry/Fiction: [link]
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