Weekend Journal Art Feature

Another weekend - more inspiring and amazing works of art:


















  Solitude is Not the Only Thing Found Under BridgesThere is a troll who sits on my shoulder and tells me
Other people's secrets as though they are bubblegum;
Blown out of proportion until they pop,
Swallowed again amongst cracked yellow teeth.
I can tell when he's about to whisper because the
Smell of lies and half-truths follows him like an infection
I have to pretend I'm not terrified of catching.
He sits under his bridge and takes payment
From lovers' sighs and screams and friends breathing
Secrets between ears and gossiping pram-wielders.
Even the creek beneath his feet burbles with tales
From upstream; liars and loners, letters thrown
Into the abyss by people who can't hold their thoughts.
And he tells me all of this, like a five year old
Holding wide-eyed palms full of shattered glass
I'm constantly scolding him for holding.
But he does anyway, as though the shards still form
Crystal vases and not blood-drawers-to-be,
As though they can't cut, deep into the ridges
Of my arms just because they don't belong to me.
Hush, troll;
Just