Resurrection (By the Bootstraps, A Revolution)

I am going to get my hands in the dirt and it will all be glorious and my knuckles, they may freeze. The page may run out and I may have the horror of a new blank one. The words may very truly run out. My love may be mistrusted, my intentions and ego may be speared. Let them be so. It doesn’t matter. I wish for my joy about things to be resurrected. I feel that my body has been pushed and that there is no longer any time to be lazy. I want to work every day to do these sword tricks, as I said that I would. My friend sews lovelier and lovelier things. It is nighttime and a full moon. Let the creativity manifest. Let the joy ring out before there is no time to do so anymore. Let the writings write themselves. Let these side businesses have the proper care and attention. I know that more people are getting to know me. I know that I am a multitalented artist. I know that these moments have to be taken in the smallest pieces, and that is frustrating to me. Something beautiful just flowed out of me now, and I am growing, glowing, transforming. But who can do that to misery and disappointment? Only I can. I know I have this power. I will not be abused. I will not feel so. I had always refused to feel victimized, though the hurt was aching inside. I wanted to lash out too. I wanted to do more. People know I will slay them if challenged in the wrong way. Many people are celebrating a holiday today, I realize. Hopefully they are at their local churches or pubs. You may not want me this way, but damn, the food of your foreigners is tasty.

It is time for a resurrection. It is time to make art. I will make art, and it will be so beautiful. Cut the fat, cut the people who don’t know better, cut out the misguided and hateful ones. There are truly wonderful people near me now. I am fortified and strong. I will wash away the disease of the familially despised. I will have my vision, but I am not exhausted. You will get to have one, too. Drink from the spring. It is light out now, and the wind is soft. Listen, just listen, and only in that way do you get to hear the song. It is ancient, and I am full of flowers, full of dirt for growing. The colors are now better and more lovely than the spring, without you in them. You made me into a piece of something, a piece of you, and now I am more than it. I am the Spring, and you are no longer your own countryman. Get out and stay out. You are not welcome anymore. I’m baptized, motherfuckers. Or as I call it, extra insurance in case Hell exists. It’s cold where you’re going, and you’re gonna die.

Eat this. It's my body. It will choke and smother you.

Drink this. They are my tears, and they are full of hatred.

Witness this, it's something new and it will shatter you.

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