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Writer's block is a bitch. Unfinished business
Her mind, obliterated and gone astray. Everything twirling becomes an abrupt unknown; complete alien to ordinary. Sane starts to dissipate as subconscious gradually begins to overwhelm self control. Watching shadows smear through thickness of black, she lies restless. Waiting for an escape to an undefined bliss. Dreaming in a trance of sound and color; a beautiful canvas created to amuse. Into a world never seen before, never touched, never thought of. Misplaced for mishaps and misfortune, she treads through precise deliberation seeking for another indefinite soul. A character to relieve her being that defines her only outcome of compunction. Running through the vines of lost truth, she screams in melodies and pitches un heard of... She had been waiting for a relief from another. From another center; another energy to be released into her. From another soul to intertwine with and be engulfed by. Her sight is red, then blurs to white. Blinded, she becomes numb by every emotion gushed through her veins....
