to swim into the deep end of silence, to swallow every key so you can’t get out. It’s okay to hear the ocean calling your fevered name
to say your sorrow is an opera of snakes, to flirt with sharp and heartless things. It’s okay to write, I deserve everything, to bow down to this rotten thing that understands you, to adore the red and ugly queen of it, to admire her calm and steady rowing.
It’s okay to lock yourself in the medicine cabinet, to drink all the wine, to do what it takes to stay without staying. Its okay to hate God today to change his name to yours, to want to ruin all that ruined you. It’s okay to feel like only a photograph of yourself, to need a stranger to pull your hair and pin you down, it’s okay to want your mother as you lie alone in bed. It’s okay to brick to fuck to flame to church to crush to knife to rock to rock to rock to rock to rock and rock.
It’s okay to wave good-bye to yourself in the mirror. To write, I don’t want anything. It’s okay to despise what you have inherited, to feel dead in a city of pulses. It’s okay to be the whale that never comes up for air, to love best the taste of your own blood."