Full-Body Goosebumps

Listening to the dulcet voice of my generation cooing

At the crying child of our future doing an impression of nature

I wear a bespoke suit of full-body goosebumps.

My eyes would overflow their eroded banks if clean water weren’t an issue

But it’s 2018

And it is,

And my blood would spill outwards a free mosquito banquet

If someone else didn’t own that too.

Every day more horrendous acts in the name of reason and science

And only art to dress the wounds:

A little girl crying in her room googling how to make her skin thicker

How to build a mask out of dead cells and crazy glue

We’re all artists!

Especially when we least realise it

Because the best art is uncontrived and flows naturally in and out of the heart without conscious effort

We are all artists and that may be the only redeeming face we wear

The only thing worth leaving carved into this blue planet

With the strip mines and potholes

As if the earth were ivory pre-1989 and free to own, sell and scar

Businessmen are lauded as artists for excellence in their field

Tools of devastation are considered works of art

A murderer practises his sordid art

We name our kids after artists

And we name our art after disasters

Because everything horrendous still must have a name.