unfiltered

The paint flows before I ask it to.

It climbs, collides, spills, speaks.

It remembers something my words haven't found yet.

Edges stay wild.

Colours speak before I do.

Each piece arrives in motion
bold, instinctive, unfiltered.

It's rhythm without rehearsal.
Emotion made visible.
A truth that refuses quiet.

This is not silence,
not softness,
not waiting.