and still, i never loved the ocean;
and still, sound travels farther in the sea
than it does in the air;
and still, the ocean is one of those places
that everyone talks about too much, and
one day you dive in on accident because
someone said the water wasn’t full of creatures.

and i once threw my heart out onto the engine
floor, the blood seeping from my only love.
and i once almost tried to sail away and not be
caught, trapped.

and i sailed until i wrecked onto the floor, bruised
knees and bleeding stomach.

and the only creature i found on the pacific floor was you:
eternal sea in mariana’s trench. you: what happens
after you see a light in the middle of the pacific floor.
you: a subway push, a sinking boat, a 747 engine
on fire thirty-five thousand feet up heading to los angeles.

okay, take the pill and split it;
okay, drown it down your throat;
okay, take the dream and the scissors;
yes, the one dream where i remembered
how to play four squares with bricks for
*****, with smoke for the air around
us.
yes, the one dream where somehow, we
painted bruises into nebulas, our scars
into stars, our whole arms would become
a galaxy that we would call “not healed,
but getting there.”
yes, the one dream where psychologists
and men in business suits demanded
our whole history, slitting our brains
to find the right pills.
yes, the one dream where my hands
shake at the acceptance letter I was
handed, my future was set in sky
blue victory.
yes, the one dream where my hands
can hardly pin down silver and yellow tears
yes, the one where I am leaving
beige walls.
yes, the one where i leave the mixture
of puke green tiles for stargazing in
the middle of nowhere blue, to
hardwood floors that are now mine
yes, the one dream where pavement
tore skin like my hands tore the papers
with failing grades and red.
yes, the one where i have said that i have
lived, i have lived, i have lived, and i
will live.
okay, cut the dream.



okay, leave the shattered remains on the floor.
okay, leave your green eyes behind.
okay, let the remains melt away,
they will, in time, like time always does.
okay, let the rain wash it away.

when you are twenty something and haven't
grown out of what your family called “baby
fat” don't worry, because you are still loved
by your body. everyday it wakes you up and
nourishes you, and when it fails to do that, it's
only a malfunction, a button hit wrong. when
you get shamed into wearing a one piece by
your friends in eighth grade, don't panic, because
that swimsuit is killer and everyone you are
with is working it. when your friends talk about
skinny shaming since they have never experienced
fat shaming, listen. when you see fat shaming,
talk about it. when your mother starts shopping
in the plus size area for you, don't feel ashamed.
your body is meant for what it is meant to do.
when you have a panic attack in the dressing
room of the local american eagle for not fitting
into size sixes, calm yourself down, no one will
ever see that size. black it out with a sharpie, cut
it out with scissors, let the tag fly. when you
get ****** into pro-ana sites, shut off your phone.
when you are on your knees with ******* in
your mouth, close the toilet. when you use ice
cubes as a snack, eat something else. don't
let your brain become a calculator before it’s
too late. when you come into school the next
day, your friends complaining about a not flat
stomach, tell them that the sack needed to hold
parts of your body is not flat for a reason. when
they complain about size four jeans, show them
how you wear eights like a badge of honor, like
your lipstick or your hair. show your stretch marks
as tattoos, show your cellulite as gold, your hips
as the gates to your mansion, and your thighs are
thunder thighs, let them boom down and let them
be free.