the end of a tour

“we sit

falling in love with images on a screen

who don't love us but who want our money”

it becomes so easy to sit

one episode becomes five

on gram of coke becomes five

all the things we do to get out of our heads

instead of making our heads safe to live in

we make spaces everywhere else to visit

one day we wake up and we can't get back in

knock knock knockin on the doors of our own skulls

peering through the eye windows and the dusty nostrils

i rent out my times to spaces on other planes

none of their lines intersect my brain

but everything human in me is hyperbolic

the other night i did mxipr hcl and dissociated completely

my brain a bunch of refracted light crystals and whisky bottles

squeezed through a birth tube of consciousness i sighed

i came back to myself and wondered instantly

how can i get back outside of my head?

before i let myself have any real thoughts in my brain

i fell in love most with the images that taught me how to escape

the pretty lights, the addiction, the rape and the self-harm

all glorification to some post-human ascendence or now-human pain

now that i want to move to create and ravish existence

my money trickles out to rent time outside my mind

and i just sit

—November 2021, Stanford, CA