confess these truths after the sun goes down. keep the words rolling under your tongue; unbitten, unbidden. one day you might let it slip, without accident or worry. and who are we, but little people who desire all the things that will destroy us in the end? twitching for sparse sway over our own beings. the end is near, somewhere around here. fate is unkind, but we can at least command our own fatality. spit out your vices (or don’t; your choice). name on them on your hands, put a finger down if you already have, and soon you will have a closed fist.
why do we insist on knowing the worst in people, to plunge ourselves in their murky depths, yet still hope we will recognize the surface? dig into the calloused practice of compulsion, sink those nails deep enough they may draw red again. gnaw those cuticles raw and ripped, clench fistfuls of hair from a wounded scalp. feel good, long for greater. that’s all it is: take before you can feel the give.
lose yourself to find yourself; can’t lose what’s never been lost. as if you’ve always known. at a distant precipice, you’ll remark that you missed this. the current of homecoming roars so close to the skeleton, nearly marrow.
now playing: “bad religion” 52 times this past week
this is what becomes of a looping spotify playlist. i saw a tweet about how twenty-something girls are writing about self-discovery on subtstack; but sometimes twenty-something girls just want to write some devastatingly unfocused prose and publish it on main.