Ridiculous

An Outlet

I’ve been sitting in front of my screen with my hands to the keys for a very long time now trying to write. A very, very long time. I don’t know. I’m trying to sort and find the right words and I can’t seem to do so. Long lists of inadequate adjectives are all that seem to be surfacing, so I’m just going to stop. Here’s my evening in photos if you’d like to try and pick my brain a bit (or at least see my less than impressive attempts at being artistic). Much-needed, I’d say.

I’ve had this song on repeat since early this afternoon.
It’s completely perfect.

though i tend to write
the epiphany more immediately,
i guess i’m trusting that there’s such a thing
as elegance in dissonance.
God, i’m skeptical of pulling scenes.
was it something that i said? was it something that i did?
please don’t get me wrong- i still need your help
as history repeats itself
here in the aftermath, i’m pulling at the seams.
strange how the heart adapts in the absence of routine.
and there, on page 29, i find “new” and make it mine.
but i can’t help casting shadows on all i leave behind.
maybe i could afford to change a bit…
even let go of the reigns?
every torn out page was worth the risk
now that the stakes have been raised.
so here in the final draft, i’ve given all i have.
strange how the heart expands in the absence of a plan.
there’s nothing left on the page, but i’m okay with that,
for i found my resolution
was designed for stronger hands.

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