Dangerous with a Glue Gun

I’m dangerous with a glue gun

comin’ for your money venom,

decorate the chimney tops

with button drops,

okay

ginger Tay–

when they spoke of blood crying from the dust

for vengeance

they never said the blood would be ours,

but my wounds

under the peppermint moon

knew

you weren’t coming back

with the bite

of my heart

you’d ripped out with your leaving–

but instead of vengeance

I want someone to feel what I have felt,

I want someone to know how I’ve

chased a child’s sugar high

for my whole life,

but find

glue instead of icing

between my teeth

whenever I seek

a new house to believe in–

but they aren’t playing for the price of feeling;

so call me a calamity,

chomping Ginger Tay’s face

and Gregory’s knees

to make myself feel clean,

call me a hungry fast fed peasant

kneeling at the tree,

call me a lost and lonely illusionist

with the lights decked out on Christmas Eve,

call me a crier

building up the past

in gingerbread walls

without the magic recipe

I still believe in,

call me a liar

with hot glue

making memories last forever

even if they taste bad,

call me a critic

when you come crashing home

for the cash

for the greed

of the feast

and I do it

to remember,

just know I’m dangerous

when I reconstruct the truth

with the weapons I have,

just keep an eye peeled

when it doesn’t decorate you the hero

and just know

I leave this candy house empty,

to keep your presence here

sweeter than memories where you to stayed.