Imitation of “How To Get Your Gun Safely Out Your Mouth” 
 
Look down. Put one foot out on the blanket air, but not before you look up to shield your eyes from the grinning scar on his porcelain face. Not before you stare at the costume skins hanging on the wall. Not before you remember the basement of childish lovers you found yourself in—drawing their faces on dirty sheets—some with long noses, round lips, and slant bodies—years ago when footsteps on ceilings didn’t leave you suffocating. And certainly not before you remember the taste of the needle against your skin—images of singing crows and blushing nightingales the kisses of a past you glorified yet shrunk away from when arms grazed them in decadence. Now go ahead and take a step after you close your eyes and drag your hands against the thin air pretending it’s the velvet sheets you wrapped yourself in when you kissed pretty things goodnight. Now breathe, take a few steps more, and feel the glass piecing itself together like healed wounds on your walk.