Ten Things to Tell Yourself in the Dark
I.
There are three-hundred and sixty degrees in a circle You are disgusting
depraved
and ugly in all but one of them.
For this reason,
avoid mirrors.
II.
Martyrs have to die, stupid Stop imagining how it feels
to be one.
Dead people don’t feel.
III.
Drawing hearts on every available surface
does not make you an artist.
Pain might, but that doesn’t mean
you should relish it
quite this much.
Put the blades
away
Your blood is
worth keeping.
IV
You are less than worthless
in most eyes and made of gold
in two
Ignore how cheap gold has become;
smile for him.
A flash of teeth might save you both.
V.
The “easy way out” is only easy for you,
do you want to be so selfish?
Saving $6,000 first
does not count, and
you know that.
Think about Wesley.
Think about his face,
shaved for the first time
since eighth grade Think about how mad
that made you because
that wasn’t Wesley; that
was some cold, old man
with fat hands, rearranging
your best friend to fit convention,
that was a circle squashed into a square
and you hated it Think about
what they’ll do to you.
Do you really want to be buried
wearing a designer dress
that the fingers of little African children
or Asian whores
or Indian widows
bled over? (fucking corporations
profiting from everything,
especially death )
VI.
Just because no one’s said them
doesn’t mean no one thinks them.
Wait,
just one more day.
You’ll scar the kid
for life
if you off yourself the day
his guts finally take charge.
VII.
Listen to a wise man’s words,
and the way guitars are weeping
just for you.
This, too, shall pass.
Don’t ask yourself
into what Don’t ask yourself
when Don’t ask yourself
what if’s.
Just listen
and agree,
like children and their parents Forget you were ever rebellious.
Just listen
and agree.
VIII.
Remember grandma’s chocolate chip cookies
and ice cold milk
at 3 am.
Remember teaching your father
the difference between tampons
and sanitary napkins –
one goes inside
and one stays out,
okay?
Remember your sister’s solo
and the way no fourteen-year-old
in the history of middle school choir ever nailed
the high notes
like that.
Remember lightening striking Island Lake;
the way his lips froze below your ear,
the way his breath felt hot and wet
coating your skin
when wow escaped your mouths
in unison.
IX.
There are other ways.
It doesn’t have to end
like this
or
at all.
Please reconsider Or
stop thinking altogether
or
pick up a phone
and dial numbers until you hear
hello
or
find a church and indulge in comfort
you’ve lost the courage
to believe in
or
dig out the Ben & Jerry’s
and lose count of calories
for the day
or
anything
but this.
X.
Don’t say you’re sorry
unless it translates to
I’ll change
I’ll never come here again
I’ll do whatever it takes
I’ll read
and write
and breathe
in then out, repeat.
I’ll learn
to love myself
again
