Stories come in many forms, whatever way an artist decides to use to express a view of the world or a feeling that otherwise is lost or kept static without the possibility of forming into something new, communicating with others like a river that flows through different landscapes that shape it and wise versa.
Migraine
When I seek to create
I imagine a magical
mystical dreamland
Enough space for my thoughts
Somehow my mind
Mistakes it for
A physical space
Magical, mystical wasteland
Where my body is free to roam
As my mind is fully capable of
In any space
I imagine that
Under perfect circumstances
Creativity flows
It flows anyways
Just without me
A rainbow outside of a body
A visual image
Interpretation of a nerve
So real that it tingles in my fingertips
It grows bigger and bigger
And takes over half of my vision
Leaving one eye blind
The stillness before the storm
A painful beauty
Flickering reflection
Untouchable water
A glass half empty
That the sun wishes to dance on
But instead floats through
Creating an illusion
That dances in front of my eyes
One eye gets burned
While the other one tries to hold on to reality
The visual nerve taking over
Creating something so real
That it almost looks like truth
All it predicts
A swollen vein
And excruciating pain
Photophobia, painkillers, and a dark room
As the light that zigzags around half of the spectrum
Real to my vision
Half visible to others
Like a dark room
Full of monsters
The hidden pain that follows
Just as real to me
As a rainbow to others
A natural paradox
Beauty and pain
Invisible to others but just as real
As the perfect magical, mystical wasteland
Where creation flows without pain
Prophesy
Darkness hid behind the light in your eyes
A conversation held in silence
In a dream
Fate whispers
A premonition
The burden of madness
knowing what you should not know
Ritual
Fire
Freedom
The world turned upside down
Mirroring what we think is common
Turning it around