Merry Christmas
It’s Christmas and
Christmas is what I know
So that’s what I’ll call it.
I’m stretching to get outside myself
But I keep snapping back
So then I stop and try a different tac
My snapped back self
The one I’ve tried so hard to get away from.
Because really I can be myself and not be an assassin
People are delicate not really
But what the fuck, if they say they’re delicate, shouldn’t I believe them?
And if I don’t believe them then I’m the assassin.
Assassin, Asshole… No difference.
Merry Christmas
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