The first time I died, it wasn’t intentional and it was only in my head.
I keep dying, I keep staying alive, nothing is intentional.
They told me to put glitter on my scars,
to cut off my fingers and toes and feed them to the earth,
they told me to live in ways that forced people to look at me.
So I
cut my hair,
dyed it any color, made people look.
What happened was, they stared more at my knuckles, skin that spoke “STAY HERE”
and I knew that scared them.
Put glitter on your scars, they said. Put paint on your body, push ink up under your fingernails, tell the world you are alive in all the ways you can.
So I sang my life on city streetcorners, I screamed my life in fast-moving cars on the highway, I closed my eyes while I was driving straight and I am alive, alive, alive.
I keep dying though. Everyday I keep dying and it still feels fresh now, like a new bruise just barely bloomin’ under your skin or your coat. I keep screamin’ to keep the demons at bay, I keep writing to keep the mania movin’ and groovin’ to what life is now.
I keep killin’ in my head, I keep killin’ the demons, but sometimes they touch the back of my eyeballs so gentle, I cry so deep, I leak I leak I leak.
Put glitter on your scars, they said. I will keep trying. My home is a place in my heart that I haven’t found yet, my home is watercolors and ink and blood.
To the ones who have wondered, I am still alive. Some days I barely speak, but don’t worry because I am still so alive, I am still screaming to myself, I am still putting glitter on my scars, I am still writing life into my skin, I am still putting water and sun on my face. I am still curling my toes when I hear good songs. I am still wanting to run when the boys look at me. I know they want. I know I want something else, something you.
I have turned my bruises into landscapes, my fingers into dancing sprawling actions, my fists are still here, I swear. They still say “STAY HERE.”