Don't Trust a Thought

Attention
You. Right there.
The one who's having secret thoughts behind your eyes.
This is a reminder.
(Reminder. Reminder.)
That you are not inside your face.
You're the room, You're the space.
You're the love. You're the pain.
You're the stain on the rug.
And the drugs that pump through your veins.
You're the awkward silence on your parents' first date.
And the gleam in your father's eyes.
You're the steam from the mines and the heat that will turn back this planet's time.
You're death. You're the cold.
You're the mushrooms that grow through your eyes, through your skull.
You're the poems that are sketched in your skin.
The patterns on your palms and the cheap psychic's grin.
You're a beautiful fucking mess.
You're the store-bought pregnancy test.
At best, you're the wind.
That sculpts the Earth's map.
At worst, you're a brain in a vat.
You're a brain in a vat that's tapping, tapping, tapping on the glass.
At last, you are stretched and spread among the stories you invent.
But you are not. The. Thoughts. In. Your. Head.
Trust the score either way
Trust the floor to hold your weight
Trust the plans when they change
Trust your feet to keep walking straight
Trust the sky to bring the rain
It knows what's best despite our complaints
Trust your body to do its job
Trust your mind to not get involved
Trust your parents, they multiplied
You are them despite therapists' cries
Trust the rest of your life
will flash before your fucking eyes
Trust that you don't just die,
Your soul leaks out your eyes into my palms.
And we'll carry on,
So trust a lot,
Trust everything.
But just don't trust a thought.