diana-horvath
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.” / / --Pearl S. Buck
Spider Spider
on my wall
how i wonder when you’ll fall
keep on crawling up my spine
etching out
a line divine
the art of war,
you know too well
and each small tread
breaks down my shell
Spider Spider
in my ear
i know you’re here
i know you’re here
Spider Spider
in my brain
your words
they make me go insane
i’ll tweeze you out
and leave you dry
cut off your legs
and blind your eyes
i’ll pinch your nose
and get the broom
cause no more spiders
in my room.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC