Fairy lights, Christmas tree
winter culmination,
I'm sleepwalking - coma locution
clenched fist, wrapped with the holy grail &
ensuing the blood of several a gentleman.

Homeward bound, fireside
ridgewood to the face
- dispersed teeth provide an ultimate stocking filler.
44. shots to the diaphragm
& you bleed out mulled wine & I ingest a Kings feast;
carousing your intestines
- around and round we go
your sinew grinding opposite my molars
- they become last weeks nightmare.

Angel, sit upon me and orate perfect English.
If thou jaunts a medley appeases
I'll arouse a knights yearnings.
Safeguarding acme symmetrical fallibly
shifting forward a midnight mass
to scallywags let alone pissed up cunts.

See - me - I'm - a - ware wolf -
and parties with whores and high school keggers
was my conception,
it's in my blood and I'll entice it,
love it,
make out with its very existence,
it's the reason i'm here tonight wearing batik,
tie, dense to my throat
- mistletoe cufflinks, curly toed slippers;
antlers,
and a smile to mock-up
soft furnishings
on wet pavements
I sit viewing Christmas eve
and it's on fire, glaring -
burning out neighborhood fire lighters.

It's not the glitter quiver
disco-ball,
hapless filler to the ballet
of this city.
It's not it's lavender perfume at nights peak
or it's twist of fortune,
august white.
I am I, here with my minuend.

It's like I'm scaling the world
a balloon
tugging my heartstring;
idle with-in the radius of your
h(art), every electrical pep
shows a footprint
I hold close.
It's a point to prove
a transition that I father,
your name under my breast for a logic greater than acclaim
or courage under fire.
The earth constantly revolves
with me,
and on some eve
we shall be close,
expose your heart
and your mind
so I can unearth
you.

Right now, I'm a cunt...
walking, talking, spitting, fucking
specimen of cowardice.
Standing tall on a snow angels
bisected wings.
I'm chained to an anchor,
it's bolt, implanted through my Adams apple
scratching like spiders
trailing on church windows
passed midnight.

I walk
underneath the bridge,
you are a statement;
I am bought and paid for...
and I shall re-trace
my footsteps back to you
by next
year.