Lost Love Lust

Tags: painting

• attack.

  My words are weapons. Sharp blades that slither along the synapse making their way towards the center.
  The center of the mind, the aura, the being.
  Everything that ends, has a beginning.
  I am a reversal, a rebellion, a renowned reconnaissance route reveling rurally.
  I begin with smiles and end with doubts.
  I speak and you listen.
  Colors and brush strokes [...]

• light switch.

  A kind of primal instinct when she strategically places herself in the seat closest to the emergency exit.
  Staring at the faded lights in the darkness, the longer she stares, the more they seem to mesh.
  A canvas of all black, through her eyes, splash of color travels through the seams at the condescending speed of light.
  A bite [...]