A Guide to Running Away (without going anywhere)
i. lock the door to that windowless room, scream
sunlight from your lungs, pull the words your father taught
you from your throat. of them create constellations.
ii. a sound is a sound. your name may be
concertos. your gender may be
a performance of orchestra and song.
iii. throw the mirror against the floor, put on your best boots. dive
into your reflection heel first again and again and again until
you are nothing. but sparkling dust in the cracks of your floorboard.
iv. anxiety will come to your door. give
it a bed, sing the lullabies you once forgot,
and you will wake to empty sheets.
v. reclaim the pleasure of learning, study
to become closer to the world, study
to love better. study not to conquer.
vi. fingerpaint. with the excess create hymns of praise, trace
adoration into your skin. when you’re done, feet bare, run
into the rain. pavement warm, water cool. begin again.
vii. there are many ways to find your pulse. you are
alive in your prose, pleas, passions, and promises.
how could you ever be an imposter?
viii. count the number of times you can say the word “glow.” chew
the word into pieces and swallow. you are what you eat is
a promise. walk the tides with the moon, call her sister.
ix. create self portraits, document the mysticism of your survival. prove
your divinity, redefine the state of biblicality. decommodify
the image of god. why the fuck shouldn’t angels look like you?
x. embrace your peers. whisper an apology to each one, call
them “collaborator” rather than “competitor.” collectivize
and grow gardens in the graveyard of capitalism.