Lame to say simply
"I love Art."
It's greater:
it's how I think, see, communicate
It runs through me,
sits in the corners of my bones
I date it
and hate it
I eat it
birth it
But while it is so naturally
all forms of my life
I get anxious
angry
when it has a mind of its own
When it leaves me, blocked
and wishing it never took hold of me
at all
in the first place
But then I remember how it feels to chew it
tongue it
squish it between my toes
and fall, deaf, into its harmonies
to surrender my body's muscles
to its twitches and contractions
and pulses- my pulse
Until I lay, exhausted,
stronger,
ready to see what muscle memory can show me
about myself
on a brand new canvas
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