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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