I can feel my soul calling out for respite.
My eyes tear of their own accord.
Unrelenting sadness inhabits my being with no source.
Let’s eat some ice cream.

My body betrays my spirit.
A cruel melodrama reigns over my existence.
There is nothing that can break the storm,
Except maybe Ben & Jerry.

I run away from myself, hiding from who I am.
The flower of my youth wilted long ago.
I know nothing, am nothing, can be nothing,
But at least there’s butter pecan.

I want to be held, to enter back into the bosom of motherly love,
And to never leave those tight, unwavering arms,
Never to feel doubt, or shame, or unworthiness again.
And put some whipped cream on my sundae.

Why, Mother?
Why, O Earth?
Why, Father?
Why, O Time?
Did you get French vanilla?
No one likes that shit.