the tangle

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In-laws are pieces of shit, I tell you
can't pry the thoughts out of racism
out their orangish flappy protoplasm
freak out, you freak out the way
I tangle in and out of calls
like I'm in some sort of matrix, excel spreadsheet
listing the calculations and triangulations
the mental gymnastics of why I don't like your folks
and I really didn't like Christmas anyways
the cabalistic tantrums to appear simple

I think my damn cheeks are going to unfold
into sweaty confetti chunks of flesh
with how clenched and folded tightly my smiles
are, at this rate, I might turn into a coiled mound
of purulent politeness
thanks for the dinner now get the hell out
you're scaring the children with your words of Christ
go back to north carolina and take your accents too
tired of tangling in and out of calls
excuses to not show up next year

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