I actually find that it reduces stress and let's me find a happy medium for my emotional state.
Might be because I have a weird way of writing though.
I'll have to tweak this or pick it apart for other uses later, but I wrote this scrap just now:
Some cliche images, but writing bits and pieces like these help me get out of writing blocks.
[Your Spectrum]
You say stars are envied things,
humming with a whiteness
that pierces the night.
And the sun is a child,
blushing in shame
of its light.
You see red as less
than a colour,
and hear it as an ice pick
clamoring in your mind.
Yet, your eyes are bloodshot
and your fingers are rosebuds.
You think you're black
as the taste on your tongue
that writhes with the flavor
of Oleander.
If only you could know
you're something bare,
scorched pure
by the flames
beneath your ribcage.
Your spirit is a constellation
of the desert.
Your skin is white hot sand.
And when you melt
into yourself
you become like glass,
sharp enough to pierce
the darkness of empty air.
Your ashen vertebrae
dyed dahlia.
And your grace,
the shade
of a lunar eclipse.
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