Bruises

I've felt many things, nothing quite as pure. There's a sweetness begging to come out that I'm squeezing to the surface. The ruptured vessels rest on my shoulders like a badge of honor. She prides herself in her work. She's good at it. Astounding.









I paste these pictures to my wall. Swollen tender bumps of glory, sing to me your majesty. Where has this gone? Where is it leading? The looming event has me tapping my foot in anticipation. I'm not so certain it's a good thing. It's marinating, sizzling in it's rage.







What could be the answer? Is it floating in the dark? If you give yourself to what you need, survival is inevitable. I love the way it makes us feel, to plant it in the ground. As I am searching for an answer you give me one:










I just want to be happy too.