I am a cyclone of vision spit
waiting to spill onto a blank surface.
The days are stormy with heavy belly ships
sinking down deep
Dragging me down
to the depths of seeping blue days.
With breath so thick
it can drown a man.
Sobbing ship wreck
crashing on your shore.
Inner storm systems swirl inside
forming the visions.
They are seeping out of me
onto the brushes and canvas
forming heavy rotation
of blending and shapes.
Vision twists are looming
on the brink of a break down
they fall onto papers at an unstoppable rate
raising heart rates, shaking hands, sweating brows.
Riding that cyclone spinning my visions
round and round to find solid ground.
They are coming more and more
my mind wrecked and wreaking havoc on your eyes.
They are coming, they are forming,
they are growing in numbers
day by day.
My visions are taking over me
they consume and fill my space
and I am part of their world
I absorb you
my world becomes your world.
I am taking over
it's a take over that is infiltrating your space
I am coming
they are coming
we are not going to stop.
The visions will take you.
And everything will be all right.
|What brings me peace at the end of the day.|
|Painter girl with the club thumb.|
|Drawing meets the newly born painting. They make a nice pair of siblings|