Thy ill, be walking soon.
Storey Art.
20/12/22
Thy ill, be walking soon.
There was critical incidents this winter… which side am I on. My trials this year… I was chosen…
Cut my name. The lights that divides us from the light. Watch me heal. This winter. Im sailing through the retrubution. Oh the shame from the year I found my care.
“This time no.”
“The flesh that was lived and loved.”
“No.”
I was in a mansion, I was getting care. A cold room with a balcony by the bay. I was given magazines. I got hit and that was my injury I had to heal. I cried myself to sleep. Be my memory nurse. I need something to slow me down. I felt sick. And I tried to speak. “I’ll be walking soon...”
A nurse was on about her son he was playing Fifa 23. I got my pillows comforted. ‘My brain is hanging upside down.’, “I hope you get the very best nurse.”… “Who am I?” I pressed my looks against the mirror. “Fuck…”
“Tell me which side to lay upon.”
“Approaching constant days.”
“Balance arise.”
“Pronounceiation.”
I evoke the dark in my voice. There was allot of jollyness expressed in my room today, the nurse was on about the high street. ‘A ken she can be the high street dream.’ A wish you well.
“Impossible.”
“Trials.”
“Found.”
“Help it’s my own crisis.”
Arran Storey.
Digital Photograph.
4000 x 2667
Storey Art.
Comments
Post a Comment