No memories left untarnished, everything has been used, disused and overused, creating, discovering a plethora of uneasiness, mangled feelings and a whiff of pain.
I had a canvas board that I started an ambitious painting on, a guitar that cried a river, my notebook sank soaked in the blood that meandered from my orphaned thoughts. Then a feather floated down the stream. the bank was orange-red with the ambers that my eyes had shed. I tore it using all the might that my hands could gather. Period.
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