Normalcy.

I knew the things that lived
inside of me with more clarity
when I let them rule my ravaging
hands. I strangled their growth
when I stopped punishing myself
for forming my first coherent
thoughts from something vapid.

Sometimes I forget the times
I stepped away to feed them without
myself knowing. Accepting what
perversely pleased me was simple
after ruling out my sanity as a
love interest.

I never wanted normalcy.
But I never wanted to praise
the beast inside me either.