i don’t like it now that it doesn’t feel like doing drugs
like nights spent licking our teeth
like flexing our jaws and explaining the plot to a movie you’ll never watch
like stealing a bottle of gin and drinking it in the back of your car
like running back to your house hand-in-hand not caring that my shoes are getting ruined

i don’t like it now that it doesn’t feel like being hurt
like if a chicken were pecking at my innards
like i have no excuse to get wasted
like a visit to barry’s palace and still remembering what happened
like doing lines off a gameboy color

i don’t like it now that i am faced with the premise of dying
like passing out on the back porch after a morning cigarette
like ema offering me a glass of their juice
like eating a bowl of ants
like drinking a six-pack on the stoop in summer and throwing up in the street

i don’t like not knowing but here is what i do know:
i know that i am prometheus’ rage
i know that it’s all in my head but so’s everything
i know that amazonite holds my secrets
i know that i am bearing false witness against my neighbor