It shot through my reality with the velocity of a bullet. Catapulted from some holy and primordial pistol. It shot like a bullet to the brain and broke the bed beneath me. Destroyed what I thought I knew.

It was sometimes soft, lulling me to sleep. Other times it stung electric blue and lodged itself into a new compartment of heart. Somedays, it saved me. Others, I believed it would kill me. It either knocked me down or shocked me into stark recognition, ringing out of me til I perceived. It got me off, it made me weak. Forced me to pray again. It had me on my knees, and kept me high, til I couldn’t speak. And the agony- exquisite pain, kaleidoscopic in its confusion, won’t make sense, just repeats. It fills up my room and looks like me.

I must’ve bled out onto the floor of the canyons.

And that holy bullet, humming through mitochondria, rich and tenacious- melds me into an inconceivable mystery. Vast and terrifying. Moving past the crisscrossing conveyer belts of counterfeit lovers, winding me back to some eerie origin space. Making all other kisses feel like practice runs. My emotions, swaying like the seas arcs, push everyone else out of my bed.