artist

there will be days your love comes out shaped like volcano
when you’ve suffered so much fool you can’t help but cut your teeth on the back of your laughter
there will be days when heartbeats drumroll the surface of your skin
you told them not to come knocking but they did
when you are made of ammunition there will be days
when everything speaks the language of sandbags and tin cans
and you go off like an answer that was waiting for decades for the wrong question to arrive
there will be months of weeks of pin drop silence
from the moment your mother first gunpowdered your name from across the kitchen
to the split second your shouts erupted over the soup bowl
and paint bombs spattered blood, spelled out beauty
a word that spills from your tongue the way oil sprays from cracked elbow joints
there will be nights the rainforests do not remember the colour of the ground
and the quick black slicks back the feathers of baby birds
brush stroked with logic
you are artist
you are dreamer
you are legion
you are science
you are weapon
you are legend
you are raven
you are thunder
there will be days when the flame of your brilliance sparkles majesty over the firmament
exploding into echoes of the shouts of god
there will be years when not a seed hiding under the ashes of scorched earth dares to grow.

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