bittersweet matrix

I shiver
with how my brain manipulates my reality
I’m a prisoner of shape and colour
like a rat locked in the pantry
hypnotised by how good it tastes
to believe in a world of fakes
I suffer
God please help me let go
and coax me
to trust in the divine flow

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100 Colours

Watching my thoughts go by and by, like a work of art constantly evolving in a chaotic structure, to nowhere specifically, with no sense apparently.

I put down the brush and look behind the canvas. And as I look, 100 colours drip from my fingers and colour my soul. They dance. This is the first work of art that I can truly call mine – not a copy of my favourite impressions, but my own visceral creation.