VisionSays

joined 1 year ago
 

What is to be done.

Where is the work to be found?

We come out of the house and look around for it. We search the stables and garage, surely it hasn't gone far.

My pen. My pen. It was just here, full of the ink of thoughts. Did it drain whilst I was filling it with my idle mind? Devil's plaything am I. Flay it on the drawing board! Let's see it's veins and beating heart under a microscope. There it is! Yes! The ink was inside this whole time!

I stab into it with thirsty nib. I scrawl hastily while it is still fresh. The ink will dry and become tacky, but this, this is still flowing and fluid. There isn't yet the hesitation.

There is an element of dedication. A pent-up desire that eschews the world in favor for auto-cannibalism. When does it become more than a diary? Must it? Look here. Who let this one in? The ink becomes tacky. The paper has something to say, now. It did before, but now the ink is sinking in and pooling around the natural textures of the paper. And the paper has feelings about all that.

Ink in it's pure sense would be the endless night, not with a speck of light, unable to be viewed. Would it ever dry? Would I ever know? The very act of placing it down, temporalizes it, and begins the countdown. It becomes tangible and therefore, able to be reduced.

#poetry

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago

It simmers in my mind.
A singular fascination of imagination,
the many ways we could make it work.
That fucking dog.
That goddamn incessant barking.
WHAT ARE YOU BARKING AT?
WHY WON’T ANYONE ADDRESS YOU?

Left outside. Abandoned. Nobody really cares. People are pissed but they’re polite. It doesn’t matter what I do. I attempt to release my desires through animalistic language and I suppose I’m not surprised that no one likes me by the end of the night. Walking home alone again. I howl to the moon,
Shouting for the sky.
Taking solace in the fact that my voice can fill the space and dissipate into crickets and cars in the distance.

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 year ago

I dig the use of white to portray the flames, but also how you handled their form. Feels alive and moving, not much now but could sweep into something greater. The lone firefighter presents the possibility that it could spiral beyond just their control.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago

His contorted countenance caught me,

Struggles with demons, or
Flesh-burrowing creatures

grimacing and grinding teeth.
Fingertips to skull
Push and press them out.
Fingertips to skull
All this meat is in the way.

Off-beat, paranoid acoustic guitar solo amid growing static and low synthbass drones.

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 year ago (1 children)

Rad way to process the leaves on the trees. I'm conflicted on the heavy blurring and spot of focus, as it is interesting but I wish I could see more. The focus spot feels too small. Just my opinion. I think it's a great result and would love to see more!