don’t bleed until you’re cut

let it go. you cannot know why. it is not important to know why. just let it go. like water sliding over your skin, like sand through your fingertips. let gravity run its course, let it fall to your feet. step on it if you must, crush it underfoot. spit on it. shit on it. stub it into the dirt with the heel of your boot. but LET. IT. GO.

4 AM is a funny time of morning. the world is a giant, lumbering cat awakening from a deep sleep. the sunrise is its languid stretch; the birds chirping the yawn it makes no attempt to muffle. 4 AM is the time for contemplation and introspection. 4 AM came too soon this morning, and it left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. 4 AM told me to let you go.

you are the second person I’ve let go this year. the first, you share more in common with now more than ever. I laugh at it, but inside I feel like I could vomit. or cry. “laughing with a mouth of blood” is what I like to call this sensation. when you fall and bust your lip open, lose a tooth, but you’re drunk on the adrenaline, high on the fear and you can do nothing else but laugh as the blood trickles down your chin. this is what infatuation with you is and this is what must be let go.

let it go. spit out the blood. clean yourself off.

I’d tell you to go fuck yourself but you already do.