Like scratches of the mad prisoner,
The symbols take shape.
Emergence…
Whispering like ghosts,
My ears only hear,
Their maddening consistency.
Beginning…
Pressing forward out my eyes,
Soft black tears,
Dripping downward.
Then…
Running down my arm,
The ink creeps forward,
Towards its destiny.
Form…
It splashes onto the moth
As colorful as its wings may be,
Black ink still stains,
Keeping forever echoes.
Tattoos of transformation,
Touching timidly
Until,
At Last…
Heartbeat,
Heartache,
Heartbeat,
Heartache,
Round the circle,
It forms from further away.
Shadows casting nets,
Masking my face,
They don’t let me see through their gaping holes.
All I see is the rope that binds me.
It’s is a beautiful rope and bares further inspection.
See the weave?
See the loom that made it?
See the origins of the great net in which we are bound?
Bound or unbound?
We need only stand.
We need only move.
And the weave unravels.
You have a choice,
Heartbeat
Heartache
Heartbeat
Heartache
Are they different?
First new piece of artwork and poetry for 2017!
Enjoy!
penetration By,
choices, changes and the cyclical regurgitation of the will to comply
algorithms and stereotypes
false hopes in finger swipes
the problem?
i am bOund by perception
i am wanting new direction
i am dissatisfied with my lot
but silent? ha! i am not.
i am vociferous
i am malicious
i am calculating
i am aggravating
i am Devastating
too many “i’s”
constantly Heaving heavy sighs
it’s time to consider my own demise
call it what it is
all of it
insanity
but there is a way out.
It’s right here
Loridian's Laboratory 