avoid absolutes. avoid the absolution of metaphor: the selves fractured into infinity, 
frenzied by that treeless forest, gutted by that bladeless dagger, buried in the grave-
less cemetery. avoid that endless gaze inwards, that spiral outwards. avoid the self 

still unsure of itself, the self toddling towards selfhood. the best writing is universal
but avoid universality. avoid potential. avoid precision and prescription. do not tell.
do not abstract your body into some sunless sky or stormless storm or selfless self.

and when you murder, show the body, your body. bloody it. try an active verb. try
to try. try to mourn. try to bury. stop trying so hard. sometimes, i worry over poetry,
how it contorts body into image, self-into-sonnet-into-starlight-into-saddest-self,

                     so that’s the last time i’ll ever use the word body or trauma or cleave or any metaphor
                     involving a bird. i’m writing about fucking up my life before i’m old enough to stop
                     fucking up my life and i can’t even conjure up any concrete details. so… what do you

                     wanna know? i could describe the wrinkled maid’s outfit, the glimmering row of F’s
                     on my transcript, the lexapro i never took, the sound of the pill bottles shaking like
                     maracas, the prayer i stopped praying because i didn’t want to not pray well enough.

                     abstraction is a violence of distance. avoid endlessness but imagine an endless row
                     of glossy magazines and some pop-psychologist guru spouting some You Are Only 
                     The Universe Experiencing Itself bullshit on every endless cover but try to believe it.

try illustrating yourself with no artifice, no                    frills, and oh god—is that it? i cannot tell
the difference between a universe and a                    void.  if i am endless, i am endlessly small. 
i am collapsing                                                                                                                  in on myself.