“welcome back”
my words don’t matter or
they do,
each time i wear a smile
rather than a grimace,
laugh rather
than run away,
knife upturned ready
for the party.
it doesn’t bother me or
it does,
if it matters at all
(& it does)
while still the glory is
in running the same race.
breathe so deep &
drink it all in. a
familiar taste that’s
all dessert &
mother fucker its
all desert. i can’t
say i didn’t know
what was coming
but dodging trains
ain’t my style these days.
methodical psychosis 