Everyday’s The First Time – Day 345, Never Give Up On Your Dreamz

The extravagance of every curve in each and point of direction in each letter is astonishing,
For a writer’s palm aroused by the motions of a written sentence.
Once a set of words are sculpted into one’s desired image,
There’s a sense of gratification felt regardless of how awful life seems.
No amount of impending doom can trump over the penetration of ideas through fingers wet with one’s own blood.
Every time we sit,
And,
Write is like our first time,
As we break through walls in our minds,
While high ministering an escape route for others lost in a labyrinth of sorrow can follow.
Freedom from a trap within a body gone hollow.
It’s the only to deal with an everlasting paradox,
At least in my heart while I bleed out thoughts,
Empty pages have been able to soothe out,
Above all else.
Nothing else feels right,
Besides a pen in my hand trying to find a way to quench my thirst for love while I deal with this drought,
Of joy seemingly eternal…