Literature
Poring Over Paint
Feeling a little rosy, got some rosé in my hand but it isn’t the drink that’s taking a stand as I think about all that this world has determined it must battle, about all this craziness that has me so rattled to the point of laziness but that’s not the end since I’m at adjoining roads that diverge and swirl as they go and I follow them as they descend and I paint their lines on my skin from my fingers to my ends and pretend that for a moment the world is okay and that today we are bigger than the hate we have decided to proliferate; yes, instead I take this thread and wrap it in my ponytail that I’ve dyed pink and I think and I think and I think until I’m at the brink of not being able to take any more, and I disengage from all of the hatred and rage and I accept joy as my patron, give in to Christmas lights and laughter and the beauty that’s sacred to humanity and I explode as this frenzy questions my sanity but it’s okay to be a little bit nuts sometimes because sometimes the world’s
