honey & lime

The Mania in the Ritual

I practice self-love the way I practice self-loathing

                Manically, and never at the correct time.

 

I pluck the pulp from myself and strain all of the best parts

until all that remains is the perfect concentration of Nothing.

                I am glassy and composed, until someone shifts the table.

 

I thought I knew how to hate myself.

I starved myself for three days for the promise of daintier hands.

But my fingernails grew back,

and my fingerprints stayed the same size

No matter how many times I mangled them to pray.

 

I thought I knew how to love myself.

I kept every flea that bounced from my mind and made me itch at night

Trained them to be part of a circus that only practiced affirmations.

But I forgot to punch holes in the lid of the jar

And you can only blow fire until the air runs out.

 

I tried to reconfigure myself once.

Pushed every organ inside of me around in an attempt to be small.

Perhaps if I was so tiny god might forget that I even exist.

But he found me in a phone booth clutching lost connection,

        Turns out he was out of quarters, too.

 

I practice self-love the way I practice self-loathing

                Ritualistically, and brick by brick.