Naked Christmas Lunch

Faded festive perceptions

Commercial rush of disappointment

Exchanging of tokens for paper-thin symbolism.

A build-up

A forest

A neon tree

Two neon trees

That glisten

With sadness


In the harsh reveal

Of sunlight.

Tear away the layers 

That have been so delicately prepared

To a temporary fix

Of consumer bliss

And a microscopic view

Of an opportunity

Into a different

Progressed

Version of you.

But nothing

Nothing really lasts longer

Than a card on a shelf

With a wish of good health

And an insincere

Smile.

In glutinous joy we avoid

The voice of reason

That directs our thoughts

And brings logic

Of toxins and poisons.

“Its Christmas

Have another drink”

Let us waste our time

And eat all the cheese

On the board

Even when we aren’t

Hungry.

And as I lay here

With one hand on my head

My body on my bed

In post transcendent realisation

Of wasted forms of communication

And messages

And sighs

And wishes

Of the sky

Of the sky

Of the sky:

I contemplate how I can’t ever progress

With my head in my chest

And my eyes looking over

My shoulder.

I’m older.

In daylight

Of winter

I sigh.

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