DearAngelTori

Like a burbling brook in spring Melted snow becomes water Poured too much in the tea cup Slide down into puddles Colors on an artist's palette Blended into new On a merry-go-round going thirty-five Streaked visions of a future Lost glasses and no contacts Undefined by definition Spinning circles in a desk chair Swirled contradictions from a focal point Record playing in reverse Spins lyrical abuse Words, feelings, life Carry evanescent disillusion Striving to survive Disown lackluster predicaments Shielded by illusion Carried within a single word HOPE.

Let it be know that the content of the following pages comes from the mind of an anxious, introverted, industrious, reliable, sympathetic, pessimistic individual. Delving into the realm of her creations and ideas could be dangerous and even infectious. Traversing further into the deepest recesses of her mind, the darkest cruelest parts of her imagination may prove fatal to those unwilling to accept alterations of the everyday understanding. Those willing to exploit their cerebrum and traverse these unstable waters to quell their curiosity and enter into a world of confusion and disarray, are more than welcome to set sail into the winds of my

 The words of the page slip into my mind but their meanings blur. The strong, aromatic air wafting through nostrils and burning my throat prevent the solid interpretation of the plethora of symbols. This aroma biting my nose and throat is nothing but alluring. The fading of its presence makes my body scream in agonizing discomfort. Searching for the subtle indication of its divine existence, it floats on the slight breeze of movement casting me into its terrorizing clutches. Head spinning with desire for it to be closer; for the burn to intensify in my masochistic want; to covet it, to touch something that cannot be reached. The lexis spins t