aftertaste
Papers, papers, papers… a pile of surface for me to write on. I can graf, draw, and tear, but i decide to write. There is a billion possibilities of what could be poured there, and I’m treading on each of them one by one. It’s not just an imagination, but also my determination and dedication for I can’t wait to take the next paper and write more stuff on it. Make it pretty, write it in different colors. Shape it like a star, like a honeycomb. I can take the white A4, or a 4 x 6 photo paper. I try to print pictures. I try to write. I don’t care if I’ve spent a lot, to me they’re still not enough. I wanna make a big pile of happiness, feelings, and emotions. I wanna create something, and make more of it. Let them fly and slide all over the place. And when I’m finally tired of making you happy, I want you to know that you’re still worth more than that.
And there’s no regret, for I have tried.
