Crayons, Hands, and Crucifixion


I want to talk about crayons solid, opaque sticks of wax the kind your parents tell you not to use as a snack when you're four, and the colors looks so good you need to try them to be sure and then you spit it out, feel the flecks of color stick to your tongue and- "I told you not to put that in your god damn mouth!" And from then on they're used as tools smeared on paper, scraped onto the halls making masterpieces that hang from shaky tacks like theyre crucified on your walls You stand back and look at then, admire the chaos because it's yours take pride in the flaking colored wax and- you can't seem to find fault in it I want to talk about handsand how deceptive they are,you're born with two and half the time ones doesn't know it could grab hold of a Hershey's bar And hands hold crayons,wrapping that wax in chubby fingers,smearing that opaque stick onto white paperwhen you're four, and those crucified pictures on the wall are no less than perfect But when hands grow up they're decievers,you blame them for imperfections in your paper,in your drawings, where that anime girls eye is too far left from the otherand that leg looks like a snapped popsicle stick the way it can't fit in the corner You're not good enough for the wall,those micro-scopic puncture wounds embedded into the paint where you hung your crooked colored stars-like a constant reminder that you're not up to parta continoue whisper that your four year old self was nailing blasphemy to the alterand that even now you can't find your art anymore righteous and worh the ceremonylike every creative thing you can muster is only hell-ridden testimony And you're sick and tired of feeling worthless, uninspired, sinful-and crayons are what you use to nail our palms to the wall, so you bleed colors-bright red and yellow, blue and smothering purples and when your parents enter they look at the wall, see the blood, smell the deathnote the way all that crimson has stained your nails, your hair, your dressthen shake their heads in aspiration and scold you-"We told you not to make a mess"


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