i am a creature of shame
i sold my own name
for the sweet sweet price of comfort
in the arms of a mother
and a father and a brother
and only dust remains
i am a creature of shame

i am a creature of guilt
if you will not then i will
and then i will repent
the way i was intended to do
apologize to you
but the words fall still
i am a creature of guilt

i will just waste away
like puddle into bed frame
and with your arms around me
i am filling in my grave
here i lie united with the dirt
not quite six feet under
cause if it’s shallow i’ll return

but i am a creature of the earth now
i will nourish and rejoice now
for i am one with my creature of passion
rise from the ashes
until nothing remains
i am a creature all the same

i woke up on the underside of an avalanche
i always try to go to bed with an olive branch
but the morning brings a thorn in my side
every time
every time

when you want to be kind
be kind
but when you want to be mean
be kinder

i want to write about
something that didn’t happen
it is important that it did not happen
i swore, i promised
that it never happened
i’m just scared that one day
what if it does?

it begins like this:
i wake up, and i’m tired
not just the weight of my eyelids,
but the weight of everything i’ve ever been
and everything i’ve never been
i lie on the couch still,
cold beneath the blanket,
until i am begging myself to change my clothes
to eat anything to drink something
i eat ravioli i drink coffee

it continues like this:
i am easily annoyed, easily frustrated
and while this is not my usual state,
it is perfectly normal for my family;
the very moment that i am too compromised
to be the middle ground,
the ground itself is gone

continuing:
i say something that i mean
and it’s only an accident once i regret it
and because of that,
the car ride home is bumpy and uncomfortable
(when i left them for the bathroom,
i could feel them talking about me,
and in the rear view mirror, he’s watching me,
and i know that he thinks i’m a villain)

the engine of his car is so loud
that it feels like a bubble in my ears
and it makes me want to scream
and maybe punch something,
even though i’d never

i would like to go home
and go straight to sleep,
to go to sleep and wake up normal

and oh, did i mention?
tomorrow is christmas eve.
they always say
christmas doesn’t feel like christmas anymore
i tend to agree,
believing it doesn’t bother me,
but i always forget that the season not feeling like christmas
feels so much worse
when you know that it should.

it’s a kindred sadness
not a cousin,
but a friend

your smell is stuck in my head
i made it up but i know it’s true

i daydream of your hands on my cheeks
your lips on my lips
my fingers in your hair
and i can smell it

you sing strawberries and watermelons but
you smell like firewood and ink
its my most absurd fantasy
that you could find a piece of me to love
so i’ll keep your voice in my ears
and let you sing me to sleep
with that sugar and salt melody

if it burns my tongue
then so be it.