“It’s going to hurt”

It’s going to hurt

You know this

So you drink tea in the morning instead

of an entire carafe of coffee

Like a vampire, your skin cells burn

on their first sip of the sun

The ringing taste of green tea or whatever

the fuck kind of tea this is

Describe to me in detail this so-called purification ritual

I can’t

I’ve never done it before

My cells are exploding into a wasting lament

This is the last time you will ever write

yourself through this

On the other side of this swamp of dark water, a plane will crash

The lone survivor will speak on the radio

as you drive down Highway 27

In the middle of Florida in the middle of the night after you

step off the plane you see the swamps morph

into the mountains of your childhood

They raise their heads like giants

The Sierras stare; do not go there

“Brave soul,” says the radio

“Beauty,” says the radio

“It had to be like this,” says the radio

“Difficult,” says the radio

“Now you’re 44 years old?” says the radio

“That’s right. 44 years old,” says the radio

Continue to drive through hornets and testicular small towns

Some flags raised

Some flags down

The god of the underworld has let you go from his hand

into the empire Floridian

He says you have a pure heart

so pure he cannot destroy it

Some people look pure but they are not

He says he cannot see you destroy yourself so he has let you go

and he will protect you with his anger and melancholy

It will hurt

You know this

All the substances have got to go

Substances don’t flow from your body

They leave with the violence

of an exorcism

Spicer says once a ghost leaves your body

it never returns

“Horrendous,” your sister texts

“I’ve been vomiting all night,” she texts

“Maybe it will be a Christmas baby,” you say

Something with no substance surrounds you