Ripped off – Oana Stefanita (Words on a blackboard)

Ripped off, traces under the blood
Paper cut, pencils drawing a disorganized metaphor of life
Nail bites, tension, drums, a palace for the anxious types
Trains off the railways, crickets going as loud as they can
Summer rain with floods leaving craters in soft lands
Doors and chains, vintage smells, and museum stairways
The unconscious painting in oil colors, dripping off the canvas
Peony petals all over the place
A grief feeling as for the dead
No air, no tears, no dreams
A cycle in an infinite loop like a broken violin on repeat
Stop. Park night lights are the only gleam
Schizophrenic splits, grasps, sour grapes, and sweet strawberries
Prairies, snakes, and venomous bites
Prolonged intoxication of an unrested heart, water cleaning toxic vibes
Glass, anger, powerlessness, and a speeding carousel
Emotions getting array
Cement paving the unleashed words of erased utopias
Sequences of jail plots as bars circle the unseen truths
A buzzing voice of pretenders’ loud presentation of their so-called work
The ludicrous
Wine and earplugs, closed lids, and the escape route
Sometimes we can only abandon our ships

for more from this creative spirit, click here:

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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