Silence the Thunder with Rain

"You're not real, but I am." To know the difference is freedom.  To realize your scream is presence. To understand your words is expression. To hold on when you want to let go is strength. A thought is only a thought until you let it grow. Don't let its roots cause the grass to fade,... Continue Reading →

My Anxiety Personified

He has big red shoes, brightly striped pants, and a round waist with ruffled white accents. He has puffy shoulder pads, a rounded sleeve with faded ruffles,  and dingy white gloves. His face is white and his smile distorts real movements, smeared red lips. His smile curls up until just below his eyes and he... Continue Reading →

Would

From head to toe personified words, stories shown in still pictures. Highlighted reels  of over-played moments I treasure most. Black and white trying not  to fade. Behind my ear a flower would grow. My neck and chest untouched, my heart plays rhythmic melodies. Being alive is art on its own. My back would extend wings,... Continue Reading →

Who’s the Bait? 

"It's the piercing eyes that determine your fate. Their dynamic fur of a colorful blend. The story! A growl detailing the ending. Like a wolf, it will be too late  when you hear my howl. An accomplishment  that can only make the ones who doubt her  unsettled & paranoid. After all, where am I hiding?"... Continue Reading →

Scars Cut Deep, So Do Words

I'm at a loss for words sometimes. &  Sometimes the tide gets rough  and knocks  the wind out of me. We are all standing  in a sea of dreams. Hoping  to rise above the water. Even if it's just to breathe. Will you try to float with me?  

Fruit For Thought 

An illness, a diagnosis, a prescription. So much goes through your mind, a tornado with no oxygen is the best way to describe it. Just spinning, with no end in sight. Amongst the storm, you bring a bottle home. Don't read the label, that alone can cause a frenzy. You decide to wing it, describe... Continue Reading →

Who, then, is the artist? 

Mold me like ceramics fingertips carving into cold clay. Anything is possible. Mold me like a story  words creating the view my eyes see. Highlighting the blues  and forgetting the rays of sunlight. Mold me like an opinion an experience dictating choices, I haven't made yet. Sweet wisdom passed down from generation to generation. Mold... Continue Reading →

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