be undone. fall apart at the seams & find your threadbare soul there.
I am this mess.
I am these broken pieces that glisten in the sunlight.
I am the chaos and falling apart that isn't pretty or cute.
I am these words that pull me back to my heart.
I am these seeping colors, a marriage of visions and thoughts and buzzing feelings.
I am the hope that is spun in every flick of the paintbrush & typewriter when I just let myself GO.
I am the red that becomes orange, and the calming presence of blue.
I am rage and passion and the subtlest inhale of hope.
I am expression, in all those ways that make no sense, because they don’t fucking need to.
I am this roar. This whisper. This falling teardrop that becomes silver, tarnished, transmuted blessed by letting myself feel.
I am a collection of impressions and the descent into darkness and the rising into light.
I am becoming.
Never a finished product—or a product at all.
I am in motion, a moving masterpiece of raw, human flesh
Like the flourish of a cherry-red flamenco dress.
I am the pure vulnerability of fear.
“Never stop moving.
Never stop expressing.
It is who you are.”
The only truth I ever need to remember...
I meet the colors and they kiss me back on my open mouth.
It is love.
The kind of love that grows
Like sturdy emerald vines
I am this glorious fucking mess.
I hold my tears & let them pave the silver streets of my future.
Streaming. Letting go.
A gentle freedom rises
From the hot smoke of all this expression.
I taste it on my tongue forever.