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