Oh, yes. Wracked with guilt I am.

Penchant (For Masochism)

Wait for me
while I slip into
(the dress called decadence)
something more comfortable
(and not confidence).

The atmosphere is sticky
with commingled misery -
I think it will combust
from the pressures
of unjustified guilt.
We always burn the same bridges,
it seems.

Talk to me,
convince me of
(my unwavering ego)
my purpose in life
(but do not flatter me).

Maybe you have shamed me
with my own clumsiness,
but the truth is:
we all commit the same crimes,
the same mistakes;
the difference lies
in the ones that are forgiven.

I'll make you
a peace offering
(another piece of my soul)
to start the pattern again
(same time next week?).

Tell you what: I'll just stick a fork in my mouth and you can kick it in, okay?