because you're always the poem and
you're always the poet and it is
the choice of your words/your hands
if you should be both or neither
you could be the muse and the painting
because it is your hands your home your heart
purple skin
give yourself form
your hands landing on your own arm
grasping at your own heart
breaking your own ribs (do you like the sound?)
to be a shape to be an object to have
hands
to have a body to carry yourself
this to be art this is what it means this
is what it means to fight for art to be
home to
own yourself
to not be an
object of
affection
you are art you are ugly you are dirty you are
real.
you are the rabbits heartbeat stopping under
my palms you are the god i do not worship
you are art you are you are you are.
-icarus
YOU ARE READING
an idiots guide to life; how to survive the badlands of wyoming
Poetrythe slightly deranged ramblings of a teenage trans guy living in wyoming there's no overarching theme but there sure is a lot of dogs, horses, and god(s) . i do not know what i am talking about 97% of the time mostly posted chronologically in order...
