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Alex 5h
Greens and blues… add a warmth to pain.
Drown scars like water
A solace in an otherwise vast emptiness
I love to draw… but like my writing it lacks skill or conviction

The following is something I did using procreate. My attempt to Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait

https://ibb.co/L90Rvw8
Alex Apr 22
To wake before the sun
To sleep without the greeting of the stars
In a room. Full of memories yet void of life
It’s the mind that holds one back
The faint echos of chaos
Despair... A word I know all to well

I find the fragments between such pains my only solace.
The fatigue of my thoughts its release
For man in its complexity is such a simple thing
Made of flesh and bone
And nothing else
Alex Apr 21
I sit...
On porch swing earnest...
The heat from my tea escaping
The dark clouds reshaping

I close my eyes...
It starts with a single drop
As a word does in a book
Then...the symphony erupts
The course takes shape

Like conversations in a busy room...
Thunder takes the stand...
Demanding silence...
And with its thoughts gone the rain begins again...

Lightning and wind reaching out to be heard and seen.
But my eyes are still shut...
Will they open to a calm? Will they open at all?

Ask the rain... for it speaks in my place...
Alex Apr 20
It sits…
The colors at one point bright
Now fade and soon turn grey
It stood once…as high as the sky itself
But now… hunched over
Burdened by time and neglect
For it was deprived
And deprivation is all it has to feed on.
I love seeing plants at coffee shops. But more often than not they sit without water and sure enough die. I find it ironic. For the amount of condensation from their cups could be measured by oceans and seas. To be within reach to such a fragile and beautiful thing yet so far away.
Alex Feb 21
With each lie a crack forms...
Each act of deceit...a fragment lost
A pain that's all to familiar...
All that's left are tears...
And alas no amount will quench your thirst
Alex Feb 21
Such is this
For we wake to a day that’s not promised
And waste it without humility
And each day that fades so does the candle’s flame.
For when the room falls to darkness
The melted wax is what remains
Alex Jul 2023
I wake...and from bed a chill overtakes me... the rustling of the trees... the dancing of the drapes... The wind...

I sit there for a moment... as bumps cover my arms... my lips turn cold...

My feet touch the ground... it sparks a memory... a dream... a mixture of both... As cold as marble but as familiar as a friend... Its the routine...

I make my way to the window to shut it... The crackling of the wood as it falls shut... I stand there... gazing on the world beyond... An illusion...

Silence now... no rustling of trees... no wind... but the cold lingers... The bumps on my arms... the proof...
The days I wake and my room is the coldest... are the days I feel most alive... Its amazing what goosebumps can do to you...
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