Hands and feet
pinned back. Words are sounds
the flesh and soul are separate
if you think about it hard enough.
Even tied up
you could go anywhere.
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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
all that have come before us.
We die due
to ignorance,
intolerance
and hatred.
If you’re reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!
I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
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!
I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
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 in the future!
-Alina