The sweat begins its descent from the agitated expression that has formed upon my face. The day’s inch closer and closer, haunting me. The shadows cast and holding me within in its cover. The return of NaNoWriMo. Yet again, after a year of facing the barren desire to embark upon the journey that many writers
We come to truly know ourselves when we are at our weakest. We pretend that we are strong to many around us and that we could conquer the world. We spend hours masquerading and yet when we are all alone, we begin to truly see ourselves for who we are. It comes to no surprise
It is so easy to tell others what to do. To acknowledge what is the next step others should make because you see their world through your point of view. You get to step back and see all angles and most of the time we forget to do that for ourselves. It is a difficult
The pull to a never-ending desire, to write. I cannot describe nor define what true passion is. I can only fully describe or give proper understanding/meaning based upon what I learn or experience. Passion seems to be our drive, either to reach a level of happiness or a sense of complete serenity. But of course,
Towering with claws of frigid despair, the beast is surrounded by roars. Facing all and standing its ground. The peak of men’s ascension. Find its time carrying history before aged held in the record. The story of mountain.
Take me to golden pastures. Where angels dance or broken wings mend. Eternities embrace. Come into vision oh serenity. Bring solemn wishes to fruition. Mask me with focus. Your warmth is needed.
Drowning in circles. Thoughts plague external decisions. Into the water’s embrace. Alone with the fire’s tail meeting its end. Coming to the surface or drawn to the bottom. Tales spun forever. Though I am met with the spiraling descent.
Feeling deep lines with texts to her. A mixture of emotions brought to reason with senses in picture. Touching smooth silk through strands. Memories of yesterdays past. Allow me to present today’s future. Tomorrow hold, I am home. Life returns as I intertwine souls. Pastures of songs catching your voice. The intoxicating, sober embrace of
Invigorating imagery. Pillaging symbology. Illusions brushed to reality. Passion in artistic history. The fire engulfing my cerebellum. Touching my soul. Brushing fire til it drives me home.
Devouring soul. Embracing what is within. Becoming the beast.