How To Be a Poet

i.    form language that leaves puddles of
  glistening pus, streaks of slime, words that are
secretly slugs. write things like
   flesh and embodiment and disintegrate and putrid and
don’t use them lightly.

ii.  recognize when other people are
  playing tricks on you. fall for
every
single
one. pretend it’s
                      their fault.

iii. strive to be the
                           most. not necessarily the
 best, simply em-
body every-
  thing you do until it
fills you up and spills
         out of you, champagne
    on a brand
   new dress.

iv. play with breaks.- breaks
   in skin, breaks between lov    ers,
line breaks. break expensive chandeliers and break
hearts and never let the wounds pool.
know that congealing blood is not “like vampire gelatin.”

v. dye your hair with red or dye her
sheets with heartless sex. dye your fingertips
  black and dye your cat recovery-flavored-sunshine. do not
confuse   dyeing with   dying.   they
     both confuse and contort and leave stains your mothers
saltwater can’t quite bleach but
one usually hurts a little less.

vi.    learn to hate yourself. also hate
        that that’s something you had to
        learn, that it wasn’t an
        instinct of sorts. (hate that you aren’t
        using better words than hate.)

vii. demons.
   depending on the stars or the
continents or how many candles have given way to your lungs and
  their heavy wishes, either get some demons or
ditch yours. brain fuzzing liquid fire or making
  love to sharp metal edges or constantly undoing
the bra hooks at the base of your throat often suffice. bonus
points for documenting both the pathetic
                                                                f
                                                                a
                                                                 l
                                                                 l and the eventual
                                                           y.
                                                   r
                                         e
                                 v
                        o
                c
        e
r

viii.     dredge up childhood memories that
   never meant much to you and
   develop a relevance to those and a sudden reliance
on caffeine. it can be
false if you want it to be.

ix.  find pens that help you drag the
 winsome out of broken things. convince
someone else to make you their project, ask
them to pull concealed strands of beauty out of
                                                                           you.

x. call that love
     (hint: it probably is.) and let yourself
                                fall.