“Hands and feet pinned back. Words are sounds…”
Category: Poetry
Free Hand #54 (Future?)
Stressed out and overwhelmed with everything happening this year… What are we to do when the room goes dark? When blood runs? When hate reigns? What are we to do as the light fades? Drums of war beating in the distance getting louder. We die like our fathers-fathers, we die in the mud like…
Free Hand #53
Following the edge of the mind to the center where standing still the eyes bleed and blossom like flowers in the spring time. A link to the self, inner to outer and the only way to feel. If you’re reading this Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my writing!…
Free Hand #52
Boiling under the moon sun lick and skin burnt your coming undone and sizzling words hold none but death across the expanse. If you’re reading this Thank You for taking time out your day to read my writing! I hope you will return in the future! -Alina
Free Hand # 51
Your words are salt, they stick and sting open wounds but you don’t know that I am just bones and salt is nothing to me. Your words fall becoming dust on the ground. If you’re reading this thank you for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you will return…