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Shadows by StolenLullaby, literature
Literature
Shadows
Roll through the sheets in dawn light
Realization there's no more will to sleep
To breathe is coarse and strained
Lips are strung across frets
Although the night has drawn new lines
And streamlined the sky and hearts
Thoughts blur and coalesce to worse
Out of pills to merely breathe
Lines have dried up; turned all to smoke
Blown away from our breeze
Dig fingers between the air
Rip away the glass from the wounds
Mirrors shattered on the floor
Remnants of the callous moon
Roll through the sheets in dawn sunlight
Crimson embroidered on the sleeves
Pulses sporadic and push through the veins
Forcing another day, alive
Distance be
Just One More Artist by StolenLullaby, literature
Literature
Just One More Artist
If given the choice, by no means would I be an artist. I would happily work on Wall St. or suck the blood of the lower class as a politician and go home with a wad of cash and a smile on my face every evening. However such a life eludes me, for it is nothing that I could hold in my hand and feel comfortable with. Such a life is like lying in a man's arms that I do not care for.
As artists we struggle and cry and bleed and sit down the end of the day not with a smile but with whatever remnants of our day we can fathom. I wish that I could work on Wall St. in the same way that I wish that I could be amused by idiotic teenage banter or crappy H