Sometimes we just butterfly ourselves open so folks can know what it is like to be here, it is probably never read or looked at or watched, but you did your part
It was a painting, a journal entry, post, photo, a video or some music that you created that said
I am alive, this is what it is like to human
Like a flower growing on a piece of driftwood in a sea of shit
if you care to look at it that way
But most of this is just noise, somehow you can see all the flowers and none of the shit, like your mind just starts to turn it off and everything you see is gold. Basically it comes down to you
Everything is awesome
There are gangly teenagers with braces, toddlers with fat bellies and Gerber spit covered faces, wives behind chess boards, friends flipping off of tree branches behind bon fires, there are fathers steering supertankers into port of calls, mothers making and thinking of all the foods you like to eat, there are back rubs yet to be had after you left town and you were feeling down, your own kids that somehow shine like the Orion with Betelgeuse and Rigel, fuck what we are shooting, Taurus, Aldebaran?
so much of this is lost with just the stars because we can’t see them anymore
Let me start over
When you go down south, Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, everyone says “what can I do for you babe, what can do for you hun?” and you feel like you are home like when you were in Mexico and every time you met a girl she kissed you twice, once on your left cheek and once on your right
You fall in love over and over again
Sometimes we just butterfly ourselves open like this because we just want to feel loved, to be loved and to love the things that you do day in and day out is what it is to be human, and perhaps nobody will ever notice.
but do it