melting but, pulsing like icicles during a mid-winter storm.

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i am stuck here like a cancer that cannot escape remission

 

 

my soul is fragile. it slips into impending doom at the mere though you may be awake thinking about another. while i am stuck here like a cancer that cannot escape remission, your name plays through my head, it feels as though my eyes have become the lens that took this precious photo of you.

some may think this photo is nothing but a #selfie, unbeknownst to them, my fragile graceful hands pushed a button, which sent a message to you. the message you heard was the snap of a shutter, the message i tried to send through it was; no matter what you are doing, you are fucking beautiful.

in all the art i create, i try to procure the observers attention, i want them to take in, breathe and feel all the beauty around them. whether it is a girl in her early twenties who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, to a boy who feels as though he cannot be beautiful. i hate that line. if you re-read that line, it just doesn’t feel appropriate even as the writer of that line, because society has conditioned us into a mold.

well, wake up because nature isn’t taught that, just go look at the unique patterns of melting icicles during the afternoon of a mid-winter storm.

 
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