write out your stream of consciousness, your every thought. explicitly and unedited with every little detail. don't scratch anything out, don't think twice. read it, reread it, read it out loud and feel embarrassed or ashamed. resist the urge to tear it up and forget it ever happened. save it for another day. hide it where no one else can find it because that's the part of you no one deserves to see.
2. take off all of your clothes and stand in front of a mirror. become aware of every detail, every mole, freckle, birthmark. trace every curve and crevice. pinch and poke and drag your fingers along while you follow the trail of sensations. look at yourself again. notice the little flaws. the crooked part of your smile, the unevenness of your skin, the way your face is not perfectly symmetrical. look in the mirror and see what you don't want to see. embrace yourself.
3. turn off every electronic device, every distraction from the world or connection to the world. lay in bed. wrap yourself up in blankets. focus on your breathing. don't think about anything else. you can almost do it. clear your mind. but the monsters always find a way. lean on them. don't fight the nightmares. find comfort in it, somehow, because what other way is there.
4. go for a run and watch the world changing in front of you. look at the sky. are there any clouds? are there any stars? feel the impact of the ground hitting your feet. feel your weight, your every pound and gravity pushing you down. feel your lightness when the breeze hits and you think you're going to wither away. why are you running? what are you running from? don't look back.
5. fall in love with the wrong person and follow them. then what.
6. get in your car and fill up your tank and find a highway and drive. put on some music and sing the wrong lyrics and sing them loud. turn off the music and listen to all the people in the world trying to be somewhere else.
7. pack up everything in a suitcase. everything is subjective. leave behind anything you don't want in this new life. walk around in circles. think about leaving think about starting over think about a clean slate. then stop and look at where you are and unpack your things and put them back where they belong.

At least if you don't ask,
I don't have to lie.
I've spent most of the past
few months asleep
on the bathroom floor;
sick of keeping everything in,
too tired to let it out.
"Home" is such an empty word.
I'm not sure why it felt
whole coming from your mouth.
I'm not sure
why I felt
whole.
We both know I'm just an idea
to carve into sheetrock
with swollen fists;
leaving worn out holes that
your heart never fit.
I try not to wake up,
but my body is used to
(everyone leaving)
routines.

A coffee cup made me
cry today. It slipped from
between my hands and
shattered on the floor, and I
couldn’t tell if my heart
had fallen with it or if
it just wasn’t there anymore.
Because I stared at the shards
and could only remember
how you stayed up with me
until midnight on my birthday
so I wouldn’t have to celebrate it
alone or that I still huddle inside
your hoodie when it rains.
Maybe the shaking
of my fingers just shows that
we all need to learn to
let go, but it might be the realization
that I no longer know how
to hold myself together.

Tonight,
in the words of Neruda,
I can write the saddest lines.
Tonight I write the saddest lines,
all for you.
And it will be painful
and tear-stained,
but honest.
I will pour my heart into this page,
for you,
and you will take my innermost thoughts tonight.
But you must know,
darling boy,
that this will be the last words I spill for you,
the last drunken night I allow you into my creative soul.
This will be the end of this,
of us,
of you and me.
Never again will I write for you love stories, or sad words.

I used to think that if given the chance,
or given the time,
I could write a thousand lines on the way
your breath felt against my bare back.
I could write infinite lines on the way
your fingertips electrified my lips,
and still have more to say.
I could write forever on the way I loved you,
Loved you entirely and hopelessly,
how I ached for you.
And I used to see you everywhere,
in the faces I passed
and the lopsided smiles of strangers.
I used to drive past you in every beat up pick up truck
on the streets of Columbus,
behind every backwards hat.
But my darling,
it's been awhile since I've seen you,
and I can't remember what your fingertips felt like anymore.
I used to close my eyes and be able to trace your features,
for they had been etched into the walls of my mind.
And I used to feel this emptiness in my chest,
because I had placed my heart in your hands,
whether you had wanted it or not.
But lately,
I haven't felt very empty,
and I couldn't tell you what your dimples
looked like.
I used to know every speckle and fleck
that lived in your irises.
But now,
I couldn't even tell you the color of your eyes.

At first,
I tried so hard to keep missing you,
thought I was supposed to miss you,
thought I wasn't supposed to let you go.
I used to think that I would love you forever,
that you would live in my heart,
occupy my soul.
I used to be okay with that.
I used to miss you every second that I was breathing.
But now,
well now sweet boy,
I go days without you here,
and some mornings I wake up unable to remember the last time
I actually missed you.
So I try,
try to miss you.
But it's far too hard to miss you by myself
and I'm so tired of missing us enough for the both of us.
So this is the end,
the end of all of this,
the end of everything.
Thank you for allowing me to love you,
for never asking me to be more than I was,
for never being more than you were,
for being ordinarily
Spectacular.