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That’s How I Feel

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Acrylic paint in art journal.

Do you know that feeling when everything inside you wants to write about your experience–
about how you are truly feeling–
about the fears and joys themselves–
on how they twist, twirl, and dance around you
like little fairies from some wild sherbet colored dream?

That’s how I feel.

My words keep failing me.
Sentences feel like prison cells.
Paragraphs–pins and needles.

So instead I just pick up the brush.
I open my art journal.
I paint.

And everything comes spilling out of me
In colors mixed with release.
Through time bound consciousness
And in infinite ways of being.

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