Kerosene

Sometimes, when i meet someone new
their existence opens up in front of me like a forest
like a galaxy
And i want to /know/ them and for them to know me
but not in the sense of studying the forest’s map or looking through a telescope at a distant scattering of glitter that betrays nothing of the searing chemical fury borne of an octillion tonnes of hydrogen pouring heat and light into an abyss so vast it defies comprehension
I want to experience their life as a thing i can traverse and learn and touch and feel
i want to be understood and to understand
i want to hold open my heart and my head and my guts and have someone say “i /know/ you. now know me”
This is how I love. How I feel. How I trust.

Sometimes I fear that I am kerosene. I am an accelerant. I am rocket fuel. I am ~intense~. I am /too much/. I am unrelenting and exhausting. I am lists and information you didn’t ask for and laboured topics and no but wait just one more thing otherwise you won’t get it.
I am show me how your mind works.
I am tell me about every friend you’ve ever had.
I am show me the places your skin remembers.
I am please help me understand you the only way I know how.
I am my family hates me.
I am an abandoned watercress farm in the woods.
I am Soho square surrounded by pigeons.
I am the cathedral cloisters.
I am colour coded rooms with beds I never want to sleep in.
I am a code but I am already broken so just hold my pieces and maybe we can find some edges to guide us into getting it together. You are a masterpiece. You are a universe of meaning and I cannot wait til liftoff. You are the deepest darkest forest whose canopy I cannot wait to get lost under.

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Meltdown #1 (cw self injury)

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Grinding whistling growing pressure

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Like a kettle on the stove

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boiling over

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a rattling pressure cooker

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screeching

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My joints calcifying

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Teeth grinding

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Hair pulling

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Clawing at my skin. Flaking picking bleeding stinging. Face scrunched up and gurning.

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No sound. My body still except for the vibrating, clenching, grinding tension and the engine tick of my brain counting pyramids of numbers tapping them out to impose some ordered beauty onto an ugly discordant world that demands i look at its ugly but not react to it

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HeadGettingSmallerCrushingMyBrainAsTheRoomGetsBiggerAndThere’sLessAirAsThePressureRisesAnd-I-Start-Hitting-My-Face-With-ThePalms-Of-My-Hands-And-The-Second-Knuckles-Of-My-Fists

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and I see flashing lights and my legs give and I collapse on the bed

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and it’s soft

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and I’m real again

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I’m calm

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I’m serene

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and the world’s the right size again

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And I’m crying

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but at least the tears are free now

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squeezed out by the contraction and expansion of my skull


like wringing out a heavy sponge


But the world is 71 percent water and i am oh so very absorbent

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