How to Cure Your Anxiety

by Megan Kisner


Feed the eels in your belly apples.

Lie to your mother about where you were last night.

Smash the mirror without looking at your face.

Stare at the bubbles bursting from toes painted blue.


Use precious stones to keep grounded.

Stop obfuscating and start creating.

Migrate your migraines to the South African shore.

Tie balloons to your pockets to stop from floating away.


Write underwater at the stroke of noon.

Elucidate your thoughts with red ink.

Oversleep with lovers left over from childhood.

Drive down the highway backwards.


Be somebody else, but only on Sundays.

Spend the night at his house just one more time.

Give all your stuffed animals names.

Pay attention when the petrichor arrives.


Send all the love letters to your mother.

Let yourself break apart.

Put yourself back together with silk thread.

Skip the rocks off your father's porch into the ocean.


Apologize over and over again.

Oscillate your body in rhythm with your heart beat.

Fall in love with falling in love.

Drink the antidote, even if it's poison.


Scream less, smile more.

Pull the blinds and get more sleep.

Write anecdotes about places you've never been.

Catch a real disease.

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