When I go back home tonight I will return
to making threats against myself. I will return
to inducing ferity, a new nature like an animal
pushing unhoned teeth through my gums.
I will return to forced sweetness. I will return
to little, obscure reassurances. I will return
to oldest fears resurfacing, hands and teeth,
eyes that refuse to blink, breath, coming
in gasps, the singular thought, no longer
drug-saturated, This cannot be happening again.
I will say this is for a story I'm writing.
And then I will not write about any of it.
If you knew the things that crowd my head.
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