I can sleep, I can’t be, I can’t be left alone with my thoughts.
Over and over my head and muscles roll around with my skin.
Thoughts as gnarled as barbed wire poke through my mind and insides.
Watch this phenomena appear again and again.
Night after night after night after night.
Gardens of beauty bloom from my finger tips with every word I type…
Every word I type.
How can the mind die as hard and painfully as mine did?
How could aesthetic beauty arrive from the origins of morbid thought patterns?
How can divine golden light come from a place which has no life?
How can birth come from a black dismal void?
How did these obscenities come to be?
Were they born within me?
If you say it then it must be so.
If I can manifest forests and gardens abloom from my fingertips…
If infinite life, love, and purity can be born from my darkest thoughts…
If a simple smile can come from extracting an aching thought…
Perhaps it is meant to be.
If it’s meant to be, so let it be.
(all credit goes to the original owner(s) of featured media)