Soft bristles, an extension of my fingertips. Bright colors splatter over a bare canvas. My mind finally running free. No words are needed here. Feelings I cannot voice start to blend into one. I search for perfection in the shapes in which I’ve created. But what is perfection when it comes to a feeling? Can a feeling ever be perfect? Perhaps not. And if that’s so why should I tear myself apart for what I create not being perfect, when the root of the creation is not perfect to begin with? To come to terms with such a realization is a feat I may never overcome. But still, I hold my brush with the expectation of such. To smear myself upon gesso with only my judgment to bear.

Too fast are the leaves changing from green to orange when I have yet to soak up the warmth of the sun.

Over and over and over again. I climb my way up just to fall back down. I’m tired. So tired. Just for once I want to stay at the top. Where the wild flowers flourish and the sun warms my skin. It’s so cold here at the bottom. A ravine I’ve grown familiar with. I want to learn the sky. To be one with the birds and stars. Mud is caked under my nails and smeared through my hair. I've befriended these rocks that support my fall. But I want more than the chill they offer.

Everything is falling apart just before I could put it together. I’m scrambling for pieces of a puzzle that never existed. This isn’t how it should be. I was so close. It was illuminated in the moon light and now the phases have gone dark.  My lungs burn, screaming for air only to fill with the inky sky around me. No stars in sight as I spiral down. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had it figured out. Or so it seemed. I thought I was certain. But once again I’m shown how I can’t trust my own judgement. I’m lost in the void of what I want to be true and what I thought was true. Is there a difference? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t.

what am i supposed to do when my heart hurts at the thought of you.

The sun combusts. A million flames reaching out to caress the earth. Destruction in the softest touch. And the moon burns brighter, from silver to gold. The oceans dissipates as the trees bow into the dirt. The earth quakes, cracks and breaks in pieces. Clouds of ash float by, harsh against sapphire sky.

Up in the clouds but I’m afraid of heights. I wish so desperately for my feet to once again touch solid ground. The silence is deafening up here and I wish to hear the birds song once more. The warmth of the sun wraps itself around me in comfort. But it’s not the same without cool moss underfoot. Only if I were to fall from the sky, but the fog has too much of a hold on me. The stars keep me company night after night as the moon begins to fade away.