Recollections of What I Composed on My Bike Ride

Let’s try this again. Let’s start over. Breathe. Imagine snakes eating their tails. Break your arms. Kiss yourself. Whatever you wanted is still there. You could be lonely on 2nd street, fighting the dumpster trucks for silence. You could have a cabin in Missouri with forests as friends and still, the same door would remain closed. Wherever you go, whatever you’re doing, the same door waits.

You don’t yet understand how to see. How to look. Often you dream of snakes and oceans because you cannot trust yourself. There is a door and people are in your way. Thoughts. Try again.

Someone left you a note in your closet. It reads:

Take yourself. Look in the mirror. Place oranges in front of her reflection. Light a candle. Repeat the process of breaking your own heart, then feed it.

Let’s start over. Imagine the snake devouring its own tail. This is what the lost do. They keep hurting themselves, though they speak themselves false, until one day the door opens.

When it does, there will be another, then another. Look at your reflection. Destroy her. Then feed her something sweet to keep going.

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