Her mind has become a tangle of webs.
Her memories fight against each other as she tries to recall her wedding dress.
Words mix and mingle as her grandchildren tell her about their day.
Past and present blur as her loved ones dance beside the lake.
She weeps and she frowns as she realises that she's not well.
She smiles as she bids her daughter farewell.

Oh, how she moves her legs as I swing this pen,
how she tip-toes across the floor as I jot down my thoughts,
how she whirls as I spin webs of words,
how she leaps and bounds as I turn the pages,
how she flies as I write countless sentences,
how she smiles and bows as my ink runs out.
Oh, how beautiful a dance of words can be.

Streams of dust
through an endless expanse.
I am the universe.

Each brushstroke is a jumble of love, sorrow and rage.
His eyes are fixed on the sole thing that keeps him sane.
He strikes the canvas as his mind and heart burst into flames.
He hears the howling wind as blood slides down his face.
He knows that nothing will be the same.
He knows that the curse he bears will never be erased.
The voices inside his head make him cower in shame.
The crows above the wheat field watch him staggering towards his inevitable fate.
He smiles at his brother, concealing the throbbing pain.
He stares at the starry sky, wondering if the sadness will ever fade away.

Drop the sword you wished to ******,
pick up the pen and let the words come out.
Let them leap and dance as much as you can,
even when spears press hard against your heart.
“Who are you?” They ask in disbelief.
“Why, of course.” You rise to your feet. “Je suis Charlie.”