Day 6: Art drain

Painting 2 - Natache Sylvia Iilonga
If a painting could speak for me. -Painting 2 by Natache Sylvia Iilonga

If a word or two could best describe the whirl wind of emotions we churn up on a daily, then we would all be boring scriptwriters.

Act! She says.

Lately, I have been procrastinating…on painting. The one lawless world, suddenly a rift of barriers and fears, I moulded from the dead crevices of my mental being. So much acting I have been doing. I no longer feel the path to freedom. The freedom of acrylic paint escaping between my fingers pressure, ready to murder the whiteness of the canvas face. With great rush and excitement. Instead, I am aloof. In limbo. Floating through the week as though it were a slide. Only to land at the top en route down again. Desperately trying to grasp Artist, their title bestowed upon me. Where am I…

Poetry spit:

I feel arrested,

my muscles in helpless rage

I wish to tear, a flood

but my shoulders wont drop.

Just to rest.

De-stress.

It’s not my pride,

for which I have none but makings of

myself in tune with my

beat.

Rythmic trance,

I cry for you take me.

Take me to where I can let a collapse

and just.

Be.


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