No, not today.
Not again.
Reflections
Of mirrors
Distorting
My Existence.
Reality,
My reality
Slipping,
Engulfed
Into
Violent
Waking
Nightmares.
Riot,
Bloody riot
Tearing,
Trembling
Tired flesh
Breaking
Weary bones
Ripping,
Feasting
My endurance.
Reasons,
My reasons
To take another
Gulp of
Sustenance
Crumbling
On Ruby ground
Swirling Into
Choking Drain.
The painting above is a peak into just how fucked up my mind is right now, Reader. The poem speaks what colors may not. Although, at the moment I am surrounded by ample self-doubt to know if either makes any sense. 🙂
Hope you are having a saner time than I am.
I’m as sane as you are lol The very fact that we, as writers can write things like this, is a testiment to our sanity. Way to go! Humanity thanks you for the relate 😊👍💗 I love the art btw. Beautiful colours and tectures 😉
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I am having a little hard time seeing anything positive so thank you so much, Jen! Your kind words just smacked my self-doubt monster on the nose! 😊💞😊
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👍🎯☯😊💕
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Much of what Jen said, I echo. And while I could transliterate your poem, nor attempt to summerise it, I did understand it at some non-verbal level. As to the art … that is not a random throw of colour.
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That’s very kind of you to say! Thank you! 💕🌸🙂
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🙂
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