I follow no rules. If anything, I break them. I just pick up words, that are lying here and there, infuse them with my ardour, my breaths. Watch them take flight, carrying my feelings, my thoughts, my whispers, to the world.
Little pieces of my heart and my mind… ending up stuffed in dirty gutters… or lining opulent boulevards.
It matters little either way… what does is the need, the necessity, to open up my veins, bleed out the pain, release the trop-plein that would otherwise slowly suffocate me — if glory there is to be, then I’ll take it by all means… but it is not the motivation or the impetus for the inky stains I leave behind me.
The same words and feelings echoed by so many people, so many of us out there, doing it all in our different ways. The same words…different voices…different noises. I’m not pretending to be anyone but me. I have no wish to be anyone else.
Image credit: potterhead-writer.deviantart.com