This piece is about February and it’s called,
“this piece is a god-damn celebration”.
It’s the worst month (February)
and my bodies changed (bad)
body BAD! like a dog
I lick the jar limpid.
chafed from being too lazy to grab the lube
this brain may be best served as a delicacy. $45.00
and free from these desire paths
furrowed by my feet falling on familiar ground
massing armor for my walk home
daisies on the road to death Did you know
that you burn 30-60 thought calories each day?
But that’s not including stress
because of cortisol
fuck cortisol, I’d drop 10 pounds
I’m dis - eased on a quest for perfection
like better skin or (the even more magical)
everyday BM But wait;
Am I lame for going through an existential phase in my early
30's? Like, how can this even be a phase if the nature of living is
“relating to existence…?” Am I not special? Why? Like how is it
possible that everything and nothing can matter at the same time?
How can I be so confused yet so content, simultaneously?
Emotional edging (a practice of awareness, un-erotic but fierce.) As
my good friend’s Kirsten and Charlie would say, “Why is blue?”
And I’d say, “Who cares, have you seen the sky?” Because I did
today and Dear Love, I’m cracked the fuck open! In that certain
kind of way, a way where it’s February and my raw flesh is
exposed to the cold air and salt but that sun. THAT SUN! And
I’m in love and it makes me want to cry (which is my dads fault,
its chemical, low T) but whatever. I’ve been sliced open and
stuffed with an immense amount of appreciation (a blessing) and
hope (a goddamn miracle.) WOOOWWWWWWW! And I’ll
scream and I‘ll smile and I’ll eat cereal for dinner and not give a
shit if it’s balanced because today I am. I’ll bike 10 miles to see my
friend, sober. Ill scream when George Harrison comes into my
ears and sing in my own shitty voice, “If not for you!” Ill speak my
truth and know what I’m saying is only that and can be helpful.
I’ll label nostalgia a bitch (despite P.C.) and carry on, seeing its
dire beauty. And yesssssss, I’ll bake salmon that will make her
dance and I like her so that’s enough for me, especially when it’s