muna 3h
what makes you a poet..?
We go through this **** to pick up
All the shattered parts of us
Fragile we stand
We never stumble
Even if we fall
We rise mightier than before
We sail through the wildest seas
Just to breath some more
All we want is to exist
Before we cease to be

Madison 2d
"Don't date an artist unless you can trap them like a bird"
He warned me,
I didn't understand what he meant until now.

The way an artist is so care-free,
So go-with-the-flow,
Unafraid of change
Unafraid of letting things go

I was foolish to think the bird was in the cage,
I thought I had him but he flew away.
Every now&then
It's fine to wander
A bit further than the rest
We connect in million ways
With just logic
We can't make any sense of this
After all
this journey takes place
We are  dream chasers
Heroes of our own story
blessed with greatness
to achieve our desire’s.
Always follow your light
through your darkest skies.

a last shot into unknown,
dive deep into the soul less ink,
only to impart your own,
perhaps to emerge victorious?

imbue the stale cruelty of the inanimate
with the vivid cruelty of the soul,
bleed unto the mocking desolute canvas,
drawing blood from mindy & body in whole.

a last shot with broken minds,
write words that are not your own
for crazed usbthe hand that the soul hides behind
a battle of thoughts, then all alone.

Was it really anything at all?
These things I write, I can't quite trust them.
Yet I can't trust what I don't write.
It's so easy to get lost
In the _ of  _
Late 2019!! Hopefully I will start writing more this year, I've had a couple written that I'm still editing. A little uncharacteristic, but I hope to do something uplifting after this just to push my limits.
J 4d
Paint, dribbling into water - each drop, like ink, bleeding into a haze as a home for the thick bristles of a brush.

A canvas, tones of rosy pinks and deep reds - blending like strawberries and cream. Love.

Fingers, chipped paint under its nails - palms splotched.
I started writing and this came out. I don't even paint.
Jenna 4d
i am an architect
though my hand has been guided many a time
i have etched my own path
into a tome of starlight
but it is a path i will walk alone sometimes
and that’s okay

i am a writer
though my heart has been swayed into submission many a time
i will continue to be
the main antagonist of my story
but i bleed ink from my fingertips and i will write my own chapter
and that’s okay

i am a warrior
though i’ve wielded my sword many a time
i have seen many wars
and fought many battles
but it’s still the small victories i celebrate most
and that’s okay

i am a dancer
though i’ve tripped over my two left feet many a time
i have broken many bones
and danced still with a smile
but my feet grow tired and i must rest sometimes
and that’s okay

i am an artist
though my hands have often been stained
my heart is my masterpiece
and i’ve put it at the forefront of my choices
but maybe it isn’t the kind to go in a museum
and that’s okay

i am damaged
i am battered
i am bruised
but i am trying
and i am healing
and that’s okay
Equiped with a smile
sharper than a scythe
trying to shine
through my darkest nights
My friend who isn’t one
Said being a starving artist is a new aesthetic
Like brunching at farmer’s markets
Paint drips, dropped on, white shirts
No shows, at art shows, in SoHo
Exotic meds, white dreads, still fed
Living in your bed head

My cat, she knows the truth
Napping on a pile of wet cat food

Actually, it’s
Calling your chef friend Michael again
And asking him if he knows a different way
To make ramen taste better
Because last time it still tasted
Like you forgot to pay your light bill
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