Feel It

Tonight, your life almost fell apart. There you were. Gagging, spitting, throwing stones at strangers’ cars. You need to roughen up. To get lost in yourself. Because losing yourself is the only way to find who you’re meant to be.

Rip off your clothes. Wipe off your lipstick. Toss your purse in the trash. Throw your change on the ground. Count how many coins are tails. Count how many times you wanted to tell the truth but didn’t.

You’re not what they say. You’re not who you say. You don’t exist yet. Leave that for when you have everything and nothing at once. When you’re so heated and desperate that you laugh hysterically and forget the meaning of time.

What is sleep? What is food? What is peace? Your brain wasn’t meant to be your friend. Stop treating it as such. And stop treating friends like gods. They make mistakes too. And the boy you like. Let him go. The beauty you see in him isn’t his. It’s not real. It’s coming from you.

Look at reality. Stare longer. Examine. Process. Write a research paper on it. Use only recent, credible sources. Show it to strangers to grade. Revise. Edit and edit. Calculate every red mark on the page. This is blood. This is wisdom.

Familiarity. The sweet perfume licking your neck. Another deep bite. Teeth make love to your flesh. You want them to be his. For him to engrave his convictions inch by inch. Tell him, yes, this spot. Yes, right there. Press him down till he’s finished savoring your nectar.

In the morning, you sketch an atlas on his back with your nails. He descends inside you and remains. Pleasure gushes through you. Magnetic. Pulsating. The sky dresses itself again. A purple and pink robe. You’re calm. In several hours, the depths of uncertainty will be taped to your head with bubble wrap.

Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Everything you touch is weightless. The charm of being strangled by your own mind. Twisting. Spinning. Coughing. There you go. Tongue sticking out. Eyes rolling back. That’s it. Don’t stop. Feel it. Feel it all at once.