Intuitions (and poor titles)

To combine words in a game that seems to lack of logic. It's an inside voice that dictates consciously even when I can't find the sense yet. It has to be born. Maybe I would only be able to understand it after a while. Or never. But it has to be like that. But I want it to be like that. Inexplicably life.

To burn its meaning, turn it upside down and let the wind carry the ashes. They can come as a whisper or as a scream. Will find their tone sliding through my fingers: caressing the skin and scratching the nails. Sometimes I have to cradle them so won't rush over the cliff; others, are retained on a blood frame to drive their fears away.

To create a structure as strong as it can attract the attention on its own and you think that have already caught me. As weak as it can keep the rhythm and I can trust on what is beyond the musicality. The substrate is that door to the adrenalin. The staircase takes you to endless possibilities that are fighting in the attic.

To question the great number of adjectives and the concreteness of each sentence. It's the need for naming to begin its existence and stay away from the darkness, to define its limits to be a frame and support the pieces of a puzzle that may won't ever be completed, maybe varnishing before understanding that there are portions which do not fit, but still deserves a place.

To allocate a picture. It's to wander through memories and recognise as the unique possibility that picture that wasn't planned for a post like this. Sometimes it's frustrating if it's drawn as a marriage of convenience. Maybe just a matter of time to know each other. If they have ended up together it wasn't by chance. There is a thread, invisible to eyes, not to heart.

To enter into the poetic prose category. Because it is a world of darkness where it's possible to identify shapes and colours. Because it runs away from rhymes and hugs the aesthetic beauty that shouts in the depth. Because there is a marked path and the obligation of reading it as the consumer wants. Because it's intuition and, especially, the fulfil need of telling.