Lily,
I'm tired of words; that desperate attempt to fill the silences.
I no longer want to deal out metaphors and allusions.
I want broad strokes and white space.
I no longer desire to describe what has already been created.
I want to fill the space, not the silence.
Words have become empty to me; everything is foreign.
I want to face the womb, not the mind.
Speak from the void, not the tongue.
Breathe in colour, not script.
But most of all, I want the burning to spread, cover, everything;
instead of turning to ash.
Lily, don't tell me anything.
Show me.
Infinite possibilities-A writer's guild
This is a writer's guild where all can gather for feedback and advice on all mediums of writing. Plus it's a great place for conversation.
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