It’s kinda hard to understand the enthusiasm she had. For all these beautiful and downright comforting little inSIGHTFUL situations wherein, it all tended to cuss-and-cause itself to think… to bother-a-blink.
To make the words and the art AND this multitude of MAGNANIMOUS and mEaNdEriNg medium matter Yet Again— she’s been taping herself tight to her sense of saviour and Self: via this artistic chair decidedly given-over-to-her boisterous little being, Wherein-
anything, AND EVERYTHING… can and shall and should and COULD-NOT particularly care-to-happen..
not unless, of course, it ACTUALLY wishes to iconoclastically do so for its SELF!
She’s been napping and MAPPING her own singular route and it appears to be undeniably fruitful —
Dumbfounded((by it all)), albeit simultaneously DUMBEDdown to some plagiarised pEoPle of petty little thinking/ as her aforeMENTIONED ARTISTIC sense-of-mind PEN/ULTIMATELY prospers AND prepares to FiNd—-
This magnificent onslaught of comfortably both CONtrarily mixedUP EmOTioNs to SEETHE both bReAtHe
Until, “She… begins to feel every LITTLE UPSIDE-WRONG-WAY-down thing Again?!”
Her attraction to beautiful abstraction, and she shall…
distract herself to the point of UNSTOPPABLE ARTISTIC ENDEAVOUR
Only, it never ends
