I don’t believe I was born, maybe emerged
from a soupy formation of gays 

and other beautiful things instead. I’ve gone
on and on telling you all about how I 

created myself, took a photograph of what
I was given, tore it up, set it on fire, inhaled 

its smoke and grew twenty times my size.
All of this has been said. Today I want to make 

this space my own and project my light through
every surface. I think by now I’ve earned this—

what with the breathing exercises just to leave
the house, and the hyper-awareness of every blade 

of grass’s movement, and the drinking, and the
getting high each night to stave off the nightmares. 

You know, just girly things. So here’s what you need
to know—any time I’m doing something I’m doing 

something I’m afraid of. This makes each experience
seem new and old at the same time. I’m always like 

I don’t give a fuck when in reality I am literally
going to die from how much of a fuck I give. Also

I’m a witch and I get all my powers from the wind. 
Wow. Aren’t I special? Don’t you want to love me 

with all of your heart for the next ten seconds? 
Don’t you want to rescue me
           from all the things that make you feel safe?