Groundhog Day

As I pass into school property the crossing guard is asleep in her car,
it is still dark.
I take note of the names I speak outloud to myself at night to make sense of things.
One name is a rollercoaster, three names are paradiddles, one name I still cannot say.
All induce nausea.
No, I cannot think about that now.
I let the electric toothbrush hit and buzz on my molars,
it distracts me for a moment.
I also force my hands under hot water
in my metal sink for too long,
skip a lotion and watch my knuckles bleed on my sheets when I clench a fist in the night.
Let myself scald in the shower,
making me both the crab fighting a moot point in a brass pot
and the crabber who has put me there.

O, heat, engulf me.

I gave names to each person running through me, confused names, odd ones,
that made sense to only me,
I place their names in my mouth and wool them around to feel them clack like rock candy.
Sweet, sharp.

Truth, I never named myself.
I would say I never think about myself but that's not true,
if you consider the
hot water and blood.
Truth, I consider myself often.
Truth, I have no name.
Truth, I face an infinite winter.
Salt smothers everything I own.