Cushion Chamber

When we combine names
We think ourselves cute
Think ourselves boxed-up
We, as tightly packaged goods

When the roof falls in
I feel like I've grown
So big, like a creature
With soft horns and round teeth

Before every argument
I like to think what Jesus would do
If his cross were as big as mine
And as ornately manufactured

Your sweetness is contagious
It runs all over our bills
And sticks to everything online
Until it doesn't

Making due is such sugary falsehood
Since we all buy ourselves gifts
Dressed up as necessities
Underused and primal

In my broken rooftop cabin
With the walls unjoined
And the position submissive
I dare anyone to crack whip

Like a Bengal tiger
Plush and round
I will hide dirt in my stripe
And express myself in icon

Schoolbus is almost here
In that sacred space
We can make a fire in the floor
And send demons down the chute
--
4.7.11

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