i sent a postcard today
it must’ve not made it
past the clouds
and to the golden gate
where you await

There's a tear in my soul
And the stuffing's falling out
Surprised you're not surprised
I was never real
Eyes of glass
Heart of gold
My flesh is made from silicone
Imperfect, blemishes and wrong
Hands are cold
Warm as stone
I was never real
Yet I still feel alone
I need this lie
To bleed itself out
And cut through this flesh
Of silicone

if we are

  created from dust,

     dust is gold,

        why should we

             think of yourselves

                     any less?

Eight months ago a roll of expired film turned my whole world purple and I began speaking in rays of light instead of words.
And there I sat in amongst the thorny thistle mats of violet and green and silver-grey clouds
And I wondered how in this world of endless colour anyone could feel so overwhelmingly blue

But sometimes the blue absorbs you
Or you just seem to see the blue in all the other colours too
And it seeps into your purple world
And it seeps into your dreams and clings to your skin and seeps and clings and seeps

But blue has its place
Blue is beautiful, interesting, and full of soul and wonder
We have blue days just like we have purple days and orange days and gold

Sometimes we find someone or something that makes our blue days feel like spring
And together you sit back and admire the beauty in the blue

Or sometimes, most times, that person is you because at the end of the day you know your blue better than anyone else

So cut yourself some slack and love your blue

It’s just trying it’s best to be a colour and you’re just trying your best to be

Behind her eyes I can see
Inside her heart and in her soul
Her veins and all her bones
All are painted gold