’Tis the season to be merry but shit gets in the way. It’s all of it. The stuff that always hovers, blends with pebbles that you were able to keep buried.
Until the Christmas caroling awakens the demons for a nightcap, that precedes the stomping of the heart
Shiny happy faces are really glistening when you come closer.
Dried prunes circle the icing of old cake.
Slices gather for next day’s leftovers.
I’ve been here so many times before and it’s exhausting.
Okay, one more.
Let’s hear it for the newly-minted souls.
Wave goodbye to closed eye lids.
This shit stinks and I like it.
Wait for me.