I've tried to love myself many times

This month,

This year

Always abruptly

Slipping back into my own bleary country

Abandoning life and law

Loving nothing, no one

Like a shadow across the sun

Like that secret desk drawer gun

I am what I am

I am what I'm not

I'm lustful,

Lost

A wilting flower

Writhing in its dirty water,

A rotting daughter

Subscribing to the self-inflicted penalties

Of having a dead father

I am what I am

I am what I'm not

Everything and nothing

Relieved and condemned,

A death stomp to creation,

Attempting to comprehend my bending stems.