Lately, my writing has gone away from poems and stories. Rather, all that my pen dictates are the words that my mind attempts to project upon the paper in front of me. Simply, there's no intended meter or flow; solely the sum of my thoughts construct my writing.
Sin Titulo
Heart’s temptations have left me far from the shores of my dreams. The waves come in, crashing upon the rocks of each of life’s many perceptions, but the cool waters of a good night’s sleep evade me. Here and there, forever and after, standing before the sunset, these weary feet wait below the mind that doesn’t dare beckon them forward. Where could they go? “Where are they wanted?” is a better question still. And the salty breeze from the sea of disbelief shall always whisper the same tune, that melodious harmony that treats wounded ears to a feast of horrific feats.
The waves, they crumble and erode the sandy shores of every dream that’s ever passed before my dreary eyes. Yet, still, years later, I’ve seen no end. (There’s no end in sight.) Meanwhile, every next instance proves how sightless I’ve been; for still I see the rocks beneath my feet, piercing my flesh, without any yearning to remove my body from such torture. Oh, how good such redness feels as it comes across my bare flesh! “Wonder no more,” each drop whispers, “for this feeling is the only right thing you’ll ever feel.” Nevermore shall my heart find any need to disagree.
Provehito in altum
~Alex
