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Kim Apr 10
It is powerful,
It is growing,
It is tangible,
It wants to escape.

Words fight with colours,
Sights blend with sounds,
Flashing and pulsing,
They need to get out.

It swells in your heart,
It courses your veins,
It floods through your brain,
It needs a release.

Music shifts to patterns,
Dreams change to lights,
Shapes become energy,
Ideas start to form.

It roars in your ears
It pulses inside,
It overwhelms everything,
It takes control.

The brightness unites.
Thoughts become words,
You write the first letter.
It is free.
Just getting some words out to release a choking ball of creative energy and inspiration that's currently overwhelming me.
Jenna Apr 8
eyes devour tasteless words
sprung up from the depths
conniving little snitches
Her nails twist and twitch
dripping in, with disgust
sipping on the attics secrets
                   it leaks
                   it reeks
She sits like a falling queen
bordered with flaking fake gold
the lips crumbling dry
She had no tone left
caked in old skin
many Women scream 'poor Her'
Jenna Mar 26
Words hurt they say,
but the feeling of them being etched
is akin to new found pain
a pen would be easier,
staining my skin, in-erasable
the pencil is more dull
perhaps then will I finally feel smart
it feels like an unwanted tattoo.
Once pen is put to paper
have a deeply felt responsibility
to complete their works.

Even when drawing for themselves,
they are secretly drawing for you,
their invisible audience.
TW Feb 8
I was charcoal drawings, you were taking camera snaps,
Frozen moments, mosquitos stuck in amber traps, handicapped,
You were Polaroids, stretching out a memory,
I'm only broken since my etching now will never be.
My work might feel saturated when I get all "introspection-y"
But I'm so exposed, we're all contrasted and you look like silhouettes to me,
I try not to let them get to me, those polarising statements,
I bite my thumbnails inside a lonely, idle basement,
And I shudder when I think what state that time will lapse the world into,
It lends a resolution, the pics'll frame you and I'll persecute.
Careful concealment,
For the need for Atonement
As the Moon claims the best of she-
Drawing her closer to the song of the Sea
Then exalted to clouds, far past the sky
Skimming the tips of the Milky Way
In his warm arms, forever lie
She only dreams those to see that day
@LadyRavenhill 2019
My sword is my pen
That slices the pages open
The ink that spills forth
In shapes and lines
Is the wisdom of past lives
©LadyRavenhill 2019
Susie Jan 10
I'm not an artist
I just say I am
And then I don't draw anything

I'm not a writer
I just say I am
And then I dont write anything

I'm not a hiker
I just say I am
And then I don't go anywhere

I'm not depressed
I just say I am
And then I don't do anything
It's fine though. Right?
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