I'm haunted by wakefulness. I hear its whispers when sheets wrap a body too tired to move. It starts with a feeling, something beyond words, a tapestry of thoughts woven discordantly across strands of eye-wide dreaming. I paint, and I'm painted, by a thousands masks. I see through their eyes. I feel their hopes and aspirations as one feels nostalgia - an overwhelming sense of what has happened and can't be changed. My sleep is held at bay by the fear of forgetting. I hold with ceiling locked eyes, life. Is there a deeper intimacy than that of a creator and creation? Is there a greater responsibility?
When morning comes, I hold no disdain for the rising sun. I have been writing all night, but my greatest work hasn't begun.
Posted by TMVore 1 year ago Report
"My sleep is held at bay by the fear of forgetting" I gaze from the other side of the mirror, for my fear is to remember. My stories are a safe path to rest, I live them, wich makes them easier to remember. You're quite an artist with words. I love it.
Posted by AeriaGloris 1 year ago Report
I'm practicing. I hope one day I'll apply my writing to other literary endeavours!
Posted by BloodRainbow 1 year ago Report
Well, hot damn, this is Satriani-level poetic.