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.