a boy filled with newfound secrets, a boy becoming. i washed in the lake and came out clean but not whole. change is the perfect art form and i am so good at it now, every day waking up crawling out of my own skin. there is nothing more cleansing than turning into someone else.

i long to close my eyes and cut myself free of my body. i sleep with a knife under my pillow, with scissors in my hand, i sharpen my teeth into fangs and my nails into claws before bed, i will chew myself free if i have to.

these are the thoughts that keep me up at night: will i bathe in the blood, golden, burning? will it hurt to tear open my own throat? will i like it?