Assembling images, constructing themes
Why won’t the words come when I’m proving a point?
I prefer my rage with a pen’s edge
Knives are for posers
Resorting to blood
Instead of destroying the mind.
Don’t they know
The mind bleeds more?
So I write my anger and I do puzzles
Clicking pieces together
Why can’t my brain click into place?
Let me be happy, just hush
It’s time to pull out paints again
I’ve been lost in words; I can’t come out
They’re running together
An ink cage.
I hold the key, the light within reach
Pick up the brush
Then another
There’s no thinking in the colors.
– Sara Myriad
Note: I love the whole creative process, but sometimes, clearly, I need to switch things up.
One Comment
Andy B
I’ve never met a writer, nor even read of one, who couldn’t relate to this. You’ll find your way through the fog, my friend.
I admit I did smile at “knives are for posers.” As a lover of knives, I don’t actually go about stabbing people, so your point is quite valid.