Destruct-o Girl

            I sip whiskey from a champagne glass with one eye still on the horizon. These walls have never been big enough to contain me; this country has never been big enough to contain me. I’m brave and ambitious and yet cower in fear at the sound of an airplane engine. I can see the world fall at my feet even as it crowds into my mind and makes me want to hide beneath a kitchen table. I’m sick of the dark, sick of this ache in my lower back; I’m sick of all of it and yet embrace it like my disappeared lover. No one would return to this place if there wasn’t something calling us back.

           The temptation drips down the back of my throat and I choke on it. “My love,” it says, “stay with me and watch as the tide comes in. I promise it will be worth it.” These words echo in the back of my head and I feel them in my spine. I want to make them real; make them part of me. But . . . they’re not. They’re no more a part of me than the dead cells rooted in my scalp. I shed them like an old sweater and continue walking. Even though it feels like my organs are collapsing in on themselves, I’ve no use for a second thought. These dreams have crafted me and led me here. I will follow them lovingly until my knees give out.