Selling prints on my big cartel shop tomorrow
Life has cut me open and all I bleed is love
You’d think it would be viscous maroon, full of anger, full of “why me?”, full of whitened teeth for biting, full of revenge dreams for the people who took my innocence like it was theirs for the taking/
But as I lay here bleeding, into the soft warm soil, the only thing that pours from the wound is the love I have squashed into my my stupid human body, finally seeping out, mixing with the earth, surely to feed the soil well enough that petunias will grow and people will press them to their noses, finding hints of a woman once cut by life’s kitchen knife.
It’s not hate that I bleed, it’s my friend brushing my hair gently, showing me that love can be soft, it’s my dad taking me to the movies when I was 7 and showing me good music in the car we would one day roll into a ditch, it’s me and my brother getting high in a car and laughing about the past, while we grin like idiots, smoke twirling around our similar faces. I bleed my favourite records, crickets in the night, white wine memories, I bleed dancing in the down pours, gouache paint, and the way it feels to fall in love for the first time.
Life cuts and I bleed, but it’s nothing but love. and I hear my friends laughing in the distance, so I sew the wound once more and chase the sound of music through the wild grass field where everyone I know is howling and hollering at the sun.
If I didn’t create, all the feelings in me would make me explode, and I’d be nothing but a rush of blood and body parts
There’s a meanness born in my blood but I’m making myself kind, I will be kind, I am kind, I’m not my mothers rage, I’m not my fathers silence, I want my heart to be a safe house for all the people that I love