She knows I can read.
2008-05-06 @ 6:32 a.m.
What is it about the sleep deprived state the elicits me to create? It draws me forth from the real world into one where words are art and art is everything; everything becomes a muse; the world is beautiful.
And colors spill from light, dance off shape and form to infuse the physical with blurs, blurring lines, impressionist paintings of reality.
I become a synesthete athlete, panting to the colors I see in sound, the tastes on my tongue from the yellow of my sheets. Exhausted, sleepless, wearing down, but invigorated. A contradiction of circadian rhythm.
Show me how to be.
everything © Claudia (2003-2008)