This is my own artwork and poetry. Apparently, I woke up feeling creative. Enjoy. Or not. Critique to your hearts content.
Gotta keep the feels away.
Emotion, continuously causing a commotion and thwarting the plans I've made.
Swimming in an ocean, too deep to touch the bottom.
Depression?
Aggression?
Sentiments of suicide?
Yeah, I've got them.
Mixed maladies fill me with calamities.
Queen of Chaos, reigns supreme.
Who else can we blame for such things?
I say bring it.
Toss intuition overboard and I'll ask for more.
I can take whatever this universe has for me.
I won't bend.
I won't break.
I'll simply fluctuate,
change my course,
charting smoother sailing waters.
Sure, I may falter.
I may sink momentarily, as these misinterpretations cause mental constipation.
But I can swim with the best of them.
I'll take the wave of whatever, ride it in.
Landing safely on shore, standing on my own two feet.
One can't be expected to float forever.
That is how we get emotional apathy.
Muscles mutated through stagnancy.
Death is the only thing you get from atrophy.
Watch me dance through the maelstrom,
shaking my fists at mile-high mountains of water, flowing from a fountain of hatred that is my legacy.
None of it means anything to me.
I've seen better.
I've been wetter.
This disruption of internal combustion is nothing more than the ruffling of feathers.
I learned long ago that I shouldn't ever give a care about the weather...
for the weather never ever had a care for me.
