1. In an attempt to focus in I blurred and multiplied. The psychedelics have worn off and I’ve learned some things but am still aggrieved. To believe is to trust and to sit is to not stand. And to float? Up here vestiges of an old self linger while I wait for my magic feet to heal themselves. Emy asked “How do we know magic is real?” and I thought, “we don’t.”
2. I’ve finally made it out of my head and into the rest of my body. I can feel my clit twitch at the sight of her and I remember reaching for something and then realizing that’s not what I wanted. There were two of me then and now I think there are at least 3. As I feel the blood flow away from my fingertips I think about the different ways we sustain ourselves and the stories we should tell but don’t.