OPEN-BRAIN SURGERY

it's okay to cry when you hit squirrels with your car by accident

don't run away from that pain that teaches you, baby—

if it's real and it hurts, just let it change you.

the Lord hath produced

thin-chested

thick-hearted

open-mouthed

women, fashioned with crimson red ribcages hidden under

layers of flesh and bone

made to

match

and protect

the full fountain that their thick love runs free from;

a fountain; or a kingdom

circled by

plush pink walls that reach up over and around stone hearts and

crack the silver locks pushed through

plastic spines

when you finally let Her love you,

lady sweet, lady bitter tongue and fire feet, lady dark skin dark eyes dark hair dark mind, lady going pale in the moonlight, lady lover, lady fighter, lady glorious, lady demon, lady buttercup kiss, lady heavy fist, lady angel, lady ferocious lady soft and kind, lady rough palms and cracked lips with blood dribbling near the chin, lady lipstick smudged lipstick clean, lady will-you-hold-my-hand? lady i'll-save-you, lady let's go down together

lady you—

get used to the feeling of release — of life's poisons draining from the corners of your eyes

and a soul's heaviness pooling at your feet.

open the dead thing inside of you. allow it to breathe slow, sweet. then revive.

don't run away from the pain that teaches you, baby —

if the mirror reaches for you with sharp hands aiming for the neck,

pull them away. use your real voice —

the one sprawling out from the bottom of your stomach

the one that knows better than to label a rarity

like a commodity.

beautify can't be quantified, or dictated, or materialized.

it simply exists.