Increasingly I find that I'm growing more incoherent in my head and on paper. Over time, the deluge of words, thoughts, have become thick and sluggish. Slowly choking up. Till I am rendered an almost-mute, barely articulate, spending my days in so much silence. It becomes easier to express my life in images instead.
Raise my eye to
As if an inanimate object has the
ability to wholly surmise what I see, what I think, what I feel.