the mind: a blank canvas

The mind can go from being an abstract expressionist to a blank canvas between chapters

suppressing raw emotions –

Some transitions are unpreparable

Feeling like an explosive in its prime,

in the depths of an active lava dome seething for release,

with erratic amounts of pressure from various directions.

But forever true freedom is always a must to create, to live, to breathe. To be

Independent.

But that would mean forgiveness.

It would be to accept all personal choices, as well as to not take things personal

Past and present

The soul has to be clean in order to see and for the projection in all realms to be clear

I was withholding and I still am, It feels like a baggage

Only I can reclaim it as my own when I put the power back into my own hands.

I own a power so strong it’ll break the case that I spent so long locking up and dragging along with me.

It’s stupid really. You’re only really fighting yourself.

My mind …

I close my eyes

The blank canvas. So beautiful and serene It’s glaring into me, and silently screaming Craving what it knows I am capable of.

An addiction that I’m fighting for some dumb reason.

But we both know it’ll remain as blank as me only as long as I’m still blinking at it blindly and still questioning what I am feeling –

Colours don’t have meaning when you feel like the whole world is grey, They are just words. Rainbows are just a fantasy. Because that’s what we do, right? Dress everything up and make it pretty, cover up any imperfections

That’s what every transition entails, Many fucked up pathways and choices to make. More chapters and canvases

It’s like poison and it’ll take over you unless you become the fighting force that takes over it and reclaim your throne.