Flow | Freedom

Is it a vent
Or just a disturbance
The cause of this spree
is unknown
The words are formulating themselves
and I have no direct control over what I am saying
nor what the potential outcome is
But they are flowing
and I haven't questioned them
Is that why the flow is uninterrupted
Flowing steadily through
weaving intricately
like ink blotting the page
And at first glance
it looks distorted
And the first notion that comes to mind
is to toss the thought aside
To clean up the ink
To burn what we wouldn't look at twice
There isn't anything remarkable about it
There is no beauty to it
These words don't inspire
They don't provoke thought
They are mindlessy slammed out
onto this machine
They are exactly what they look like
All is beautiful
All is bright
Abstract like the essence of art itself

The End

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