Remembering that one time you couldn’t take it,
Objectionable phrases and a swirling menace no one else could see.
Well, I did, I did, in my childish way,
I know what drove you from the house that day.
But I loved you and didn’t want you gone,
But my little mouth couldn’t compete
Against the Christmas shouts.
I hate you for being kindred and leaving me alone.
I don’t know how to be singular,
And your lessons without guidance drive the people I love away.
And like a million other souls I have a sour Christmas day
All the special you taught me gone,
Peat and dirt all wrapped up for me,
That’s no present.
That’s sad past, and your ghost pulling out your hair for me.
I gave you periwinkle blue.
You gave me hair and a cramped stomach.
I hope we can fair this up one day.
I miss genuine hugs.
My God God God I miss you.
The good has died.
What’s left is sick, the eyes are pyed,
For Jesus sake we can’t talk dried.
So strike one up for baby-scythe,
I figured, what, three months ago,
When what thought good was once dropped side,
I can’t believe you haven’t died
a little, though you haven’t cried
That necessary tear to know
a quickening of ripping roe.
You are shiny, and you’re pretty.
When you’re in my throat I love you.
You’re the crunch of glass between my teeth,
and candy on my lap.
And you’re scruffy and you’re lying,
You’re a badger at the baby.
You’re the journal in the bureau
of Narcissus Daydream Annie.
The emergency release kit that
she rubs into her arms?
You’re the thought that traces all the lines
and reddens up the skin.
You’re the Near-to-Hand, the Up-All-Night,
You’re Glamour in a photo.
Just revisiting the cities on
a badly hand-drawn map.