Writing, it’s Feeling. spontaneous urges touching upon each of the senses the moment the pen magnetises into fingertips spilling out currents of words in panicked ink splatters, unmanaged, unfiltered & channeled.wept out, breath subtle,surrounded by empty sound. static brush,while wrist sweeps across lanes,crossing lines, giving in,its desperation, its surrender,where its heading,where its been.

Writing, it’s Feeling. spontaneous urges touching upon each of the senses the moment the pen magnetises into fingertips spilling out currents of words in panicked ink splatters, unmanaged, unfiltered & channeled.wept out, breath subtle,surrounded by empty sound. static brush,while wrist sweeps across lanes,crossing lines, giving in,its desperation, its surrender,where its heading,where its been.

– L V HALL –

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