To struggle is to make art
I say
tugging the stringy floss of words from my mouth
vile.
splatters on rice parchment
Feather point
dipped black ink drops
vial.
distilled life experiences
as bleeding spiderwebs lines
of the pulped wood, the hearts of gods soaked in your bland blood tears drops dripping from your forehead in exertion as your soul realigns with your body on the silkscreen spacetime marked with that tiny pinpoint of your location, your existence, Cartesian 0, 0, 0, 0
vacuum.
time and space give us nothing. But moving does.
dancing bodies or scribbled, preassembled rap battle lines
blurred pastels and smudged charcoal
cues and autotune
crappy coffee from a campfire heated pot, ceramic. Blue with an azure trimming. Pour spout, flip top, whistle when it’s ready. Tone turns to a flat drone.
vital
scribbled notes in the margins
the signs of a crazy man
vago
Bondage is to be tied down to something with no fear of what is coming. But I’ll take a few drinks to expose myself like that.
vino
Takes the edge off my frozen heart
vulnerable
I’m loved.
valuable.
I’m scared
vertigo
But that voice whispers just let go.
Let go
Let go
Virtuoso
