Free Bleeding

Written by Comfort Cat

I’m an artist
at my easel
I’m only wearing a smock
and you can tell how I got there
because I left a trail
of shimmering lacquer
a crimson betrayal
I’ve got nothing to live for now

so I’ve been free-bleeding
I feel it creeping down my thigh like a secret
a warm expulsion
like a paint can explosion
and I just can’t contain it anymore

I wasn’t always like this
putting stains in my bed
but I had too many episodes
that all involved my head
and now my family comes to see me
maybe once a week or so
I guess they must feel sorry for me
but how would I know?
the glimmering goodness
of salvation is in me!
I’ve got nobody left to impress

so I’ve been free-bleeding
I feel it creeping down my thigh like a secret
a dark ovation
for surviving ovulation
and I just can’t contain it anymore

I’m an artist
at my easel
and I’ve been ready for years
to throw out my glad rags
knock back a couple of beers
and bleed on the furniture
bleed on the whites
bleed like a mother that lost all his rights
on the glittering train of my hospital gown
they already think I’m a red-nosed clown

so I’ve been free-bleeding
I feel it creeping down my thigh like a secret
a wet sensation often linked to ruination
even though it’s just menstruation
and I just can’t contain it anymore

no I just can’t contain it anymore
no I just can’t contain it anymore
oh I just can’t contain it anymore

© 2018 Comfort Cat

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