The Abstract Art Gallery
Broken, confused writer Jack Thomas puts the images in his mind on display in this "Blog." He dives into personal experience and his observations of the world to share his take on morality, childhood trauma, creativity, relationships, sex, politics, religion, violence, reality and more. Using countless formats from narrative driven short stories, to poetry, to song lyrics and philosophical explanations.
Light sleight of hand
Time bombs hide behind palms
Dark tones behind iron heights
Wrong rights from twisted lines of sight
Fearful the tie makes cheerful and high
Chains tearful to die
Grains leak paper crimes
Quite bleak bills stacked high Empires rise
Why? They cry and stand by
Built entire towers to ride shy
Setting ants on fire to stop the hill
Who the fuck are we to let it happen?
Who the fuck are they to try?
I’m here in front of Saint Micheals Medical Center where police are currently investigating what has been referred to by authorities as rabid cannibalism. Yes, you heard right.
Early this morning, at 4:15am, a patient suffering from an unknown terminal illness left their intensive care room and attacked nurse on duty, Samantha Rice. Reports say the patient, male, name not yet revealed, tackled the nurse to the ground and repeatedly bit at the nurse, tearing through flesh and meat and ripping off entire chunks only to chew them and swallow them as though…
Read MoreDry ink hangs over the page dangling frozen at the tip of a pen. The paper yellows with age. Blank with doubt and uninspired hopelessness. Waiting. Just waiting for the idle hand to sway with originality and scribble with aimless joy, but it all remains static and still.
Although, the air feels desperate the clock is patient as its afternoon smile shifts to a late night frown.
Floorboards creak and thump at pacing boots like a secret killer quietly stalking prey in a cabin. This cabin is nowhere near as eventful.
Endlessly searching for direction, the haunting apparition hovers over the imaginary world with tragic sorrow filled eyes. Hollow and tearfully fixed on the emptiness.
Bloodless pale, regretful and depressive, hatred consume the spirit and ignites strong sentiment. Like an ever growing void of inescapable speed and magnitude. The fear of being incomplete and fragmented crippled and killed the host, but nature demands invention..
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