on becoming alive

thank god for sleeping pills
and the man who gave me a bag
to quiet my mind.

thank god for boys with open hands
and curious minds and naïve hearts
who make me young because
god, you birthed me old
thank god

you birthed me old,
so I could be the one to
measure the livelihood of stars
while the others made
their childhood wishes
come true.

thank god I have a mind
that runs a million miles faster
than I ever could, because
I believe my heart is an hourglass
of honey and grime, and
I’m slowly running out of
time, and I fear
these days are numbered.

thank god for people
who write the words bleeding in my heart
without knowing I exist, thank god
for beauty and my understanding
that I only exist in relation to it
and in appreciation of what
I can’t become.

thank god for my rebirth
because I spent all those
eye-opening years of my life
sleeping behind the wheel, thank god
someone was there to wake
me up. (thank god that I can
weep for happiness and depression
in the same day, because it means
I’m finally here)

thank god for people I won’t remember
and memories that aren’t real
and for flutters, thank god for
the flutters in my heart and stomach
and my mind making me believe
I’m a habitat for butterflies, like
I can actually sustain something
surreal and good. thank god for
inconsistencies that defile
the inevitabilities that haunt me
in my dreams, thank god
I broke the patterns
I created for myself out of
binder paper and written
promises, written nooses,
thank god

I am not what I say I am.
thank god I’m a liar and
thank god there’s something
human in that, something perfect
tucked away inside of me
waiting to explode. thank god
I’m real enough to explode,
and not the imaginary
entity scrawled upon
sorry walls; thank you god,

because I survived.