splatter

i feel like we’re all just glasses of milk and this world keeps shaking us and shaking us, wanting to spill us across the kitchen floor, but we’ve all grown so scared of being knocked over that we do everything in our power not to.

i think though, that we have spill and we have to splatter. we have to leave parts of ourselves where we go and who we touch. i think it’s the only way to be remembered.

maybe we’re all just scared of spilling all of ourselves onto a canvas only to fall down and realize we have nothing more to give, but i think you have feel empty before you can feel full.

there’s always more you can give but maybe you have to stand in the rain for awhile to figure that out.