A State of Mind
A gallery of words displayed in her hand; what she will write hasn’t been planned.
A lot like her life.
Her pen moves on command, by a thought not molded by this world she sees, instead by a thought held as a secret by this girl and what she believes; a girl who does not live by the words she speaks but by the words she bleeds on a paper so white it loses its purity. The ink spreads intricately and imperfectly, where it’s allowed to be. The words she wrote are sacred, opposite of his temple of hatred. She is naked. She has come undone. One by one, one by one, words fill her world opposite of a reality she lives. She doesn’t give a shit. She imagines what isn’t real so that what is real can feel like something she imagined. She is damaged. An infliction of contradictions. She doesn’t give a shit. She takes a hit. Vulnerable and guarded, she is hardened. Exposed and closed, she takes a dose. Each word she releases into her veins travels from a needle filled with ink, numbing her and giving her the power to think. She feels freedom. She struggles with this demon. She calls it a poisonous blessing. Her pen does the undressing, of what is inside. Logic and emotion collide. Emotion wins and strikes her heart, she holds her words close so they can’t be ripped apart, like that day they tried to rescue her from her mind. They were denied. She couldn’t admit her thoughts to a world so blind. So her words are held safe and sound and bound, to a place, which can be closed and re-opened. Her words prove she can’t be broken, on pages, which have stayed intact and bound together; a life in words is a storm she can weather.
(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)