My body is a canvas
The type you get at Michael's in a pack of three
For $12.99
Pre-gessoed and ready to go
Though they probably won't last forever,
Hanging on a nail in your grandpa's home
I paint my wrists with watercolor bruises,
Purple and blue
Like clouds drifting by a setting sun
I sketch out lines across my thighs
My every action amplified into a performance art piece
I draw with little dots of ink, until I get a picture as permanent than I am  
I cut and dye my hair like cloth
Knowing one day
I will figure out how to stitch myself back together

She drew on her hands
Pictures I didn't understand
She wrote on her hands
Pieces that didn't make sense
But to her, skin was her canvas
Her ink flowed better
Then ever on paper
She put her thoughts on her hand
Yet I never understand

The artist adds another stroke
Every night

He hates to see his paint
wasted on such an ugly canvas

He tells himself
Maybe tomorrow I wont waste it

But painting has become such a habit
that it seems like he cant stop

until all his paint
is gone

I am getting inked
This is my first
It will be with me as I go through years

The needles punch into my skin, adding detail
Careful, for it mustn't smear
This is not just ink
It is my love for you
This is not just a word
A meaning for me

I go back to the moment we first met
The trance I was in, I am in it again
Your eyes
Your touch
Your everything
Let them tattoo into me forever

I will think about you until my heart beats
I will talk about you until my voice lasts
I will write about you until my bones crack

You are my everything

Bhakth (my son)

That is my tattoo

and I didn't want to
fall for you
because falling only leads to
scraped knees and
****** bandages

but I enjoyed the beautiful
sunrises that appeared on my
legs and hands
and I kept begging for more
forbidden pain until I was
numb to you

but the amount of scars left on my
canvas of a body today couldn't
add up to the regret I
felt for not having
fallen
hard
enough.

You are the painting feather
and I am the canvas you draw on

With your artistic hand,
you paint on me the final touch

With a stroke, you paint a smile on
sad faces

With a swing, you paint a gentle breeze
Instead of a gusty wind

Please draw on me with ease
N' erase from me what you don't please

I love you even if you
throw the colors in the seas

I will listen to your voice
Thats a moment I will cease

The music climbs inside my empty shell and fills me up with fountains of color and swirling geometrical patterns, becoming a vortex ready to touch down as soon as the gentle bristles kiss the rough canvas.
Oh, the canvas!
My life raft in a sea of faceless, indifferent individuals who exclude any person with the sense to push back against their idiocy. Anyone strong enough to demand answers.

everything i touch is art
and i want to turn your
back into canvas
my fingers are covered
in acrylic paint and
you’re becoming a masterpiece

*(r.e.)