I like to pull prompts from Rachel McKibbens’ blog in the morning to roll my brain from bed. Although defunct, it’s loaded with a hundred or so ways to push yourself into some weird spaces while just having fun. After that, I feel much more ready to tackle the bigger projects of the day. Here, I used her entry on curses. It recommends directing each curse at different people, but I seem to be just listing off personal fears.
May you strangle on every string you never let me change.
May you see a bazaar of ghosts in the mirrors of every home you call to.
May you suffer opprobrium from your father’s father before childhood warlords.
May you never notice the air disturbance as the axe interrupts your spine
May you too late smell the gasoline in your brother’s smile.
May you never know how foolish you are for not admitting when you’re wrong,
Build a darkly fantastic demagoguery around your falsehoods,
and have the world see itself in every word you say.
May you spark hurricanes in their arteries
and watch as they smear every murmuration of fraternity from the skies
and wipe their lips on their collars.
May you taste the lipstick on your teeth.
May your grip weaken and the wisdom of its constituents
writhe away into darker venues of your morale.
May you feel the cartilage shatter in your nose
and the murderous intent behind each knuckle.
May you lose your temper after a state of euphoria,
the wreck of intestines sticking to your teeth
as they spill from your lover’s lips.
May you read every word she kept from you like gun-shy braille
in the deceit of her receding footfalls.
May you know the love you lost as it preys upon others.
May you promise the truth
and listen to your tongue deny its flight to your mother’s conscience.
May you reek of cigarettes at the office
and feel proud in the novelty, not noticing
the scurry of years laying down in the deathbed of your face.
May you swear, swear, swear,
and never once deliver.