In such a stifled place
where dreary december is
forever
the bones of
a yellow snow
spirit are buried
rotten, forgotten
lack of want and uncheery
christmas
dwells within your eyes

oh wise one, tell me!
speak to me of the land
called happy
talk with me of the
palace, joy.
let me write for you
a memoir of the never
let me help you to
think thoughts of
life you've never known

i've grown so weary
of burying your dead
thoughts
in this graveyard
mind of mine

alined, the gravestone's
mutter in stuttering wonder
entwined
i hate to taste the charcoal
of a poor heart's
-truly inspired-
insipid
garbage
fits!

rewind!
turn to me (says he)
take the key,
[in whose mighty hands am i manipulated?]
yank a bit
crank a little

key operated toy
is the boy
who is easily annoyed
the end of us and them and hate

will come
some day
and my heart
(and yours)
will wake
from this
moonshine
sunny delight
joke

its not so funny now,
but we'll be sure to laugh
for old time's sake
in
the end

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