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Today is the unwinding of all things. Today is when I must talk to an army of doctors about how I see things other people cannot. I am skipping group. I am confused. I am on the loose! I am also bald. Sadly, my effort to mask my brain-drilling lice as delusion did not work. My effort to mask the desire to shave my head as part of my plan for self-induced ego death also did not work. Things are all rotten all the way from the inside. By proxy, I have conceived some kind of noxious wet mind-child which lives inside of each vessel, even that which dissolves the moment after it forms.
Last night I had a dream that my grandma wanted to see me connect to her God. Instead of singing a hymn or lighting a candle, my hands began setting up an altar to a pagan deity. I could not stop them; the pentagram, the flowers, the buttery candles, all of them falling in line. My grandmother’s jaw dropped in horror, and she looked just like The Scream. She also looked like the purple stain in the bottom of the bathtub which, coincidentally, looks just like The Scream. Her flesh went melting off her face, sliding in a beige, veiny avalanche. This is what will happen if I tell the world about the way I am: the speaking to trees, the dead bodies in the walls, the phantom insects, the shadow lads. Mentally, their faces will melt off. My true form will horrify and disgust them in such an awful, nuanced way, and they will never believe my side of any story ever again. There is the boy who cried wolf, and then there is the “girl” who cries “DEMONS! DEAD GODS AND DEMONS!”
So this is my day. My delicate miniature apocalypse. And so I will step unflinching into the green fire and let it reveal my glowing bones.
much love,
your favorite batty bean
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