by on December 17, 2023 :: 0 comments

Another year has passed & so we
Get here again; a day some count
Down to for months on end, as if even
One good day is going to save a tired,
Frustrated life from its own death-grip
Of boredom, to those of us like me
Who just treat it like any other. My
Christmas day will mean nothing
Different; I’ll wake, I’ll get high, eat
Breakfast & walk…
I’ll return to my room once my feet
Grow sore & my eyes grow sick of all the
Big families swarming my usually
Deserted seafront with their pretend
Christmas joy & I’ll do what I do
Every other day of this god-damn
Life as a life like this is made for
The living rather than the waiting
Around for nothing to happen.

editors note:

This and every day, exactly what we make it. – mh clay

Leave a Reply