I left the clues. In the walls. In the paper I laid down to hide the soft parts. In the bath of cold air where my eyes ached like swollen nests of stoned and slowed bees.

You already know.

You will find me.

The pain in my tired chest just digs and digs and digs at me. Owl and pig. Snorting. Watching. I feel both strange and familiar.

“It’s an honest question.”

“And a disgusting one.”

All I want is comfort from the sort of friend whose nearness won’t burn me away. Just sit close. Don’t make me disappear.

I squeeze my toes back and thrust outward from the insides of my feet. Every muscle begs to go under. Every thought wants dirt covered over it.

Blame me. Hold me accountable. Drag me back into the air. Name me again and again.

Either way,

I do not care anymore.