When the kids are told ‘back to bed or Santa’ll never come again!’,

Turkey is cooking nicely, with veg piled high,

And tomorrow it’ll be in sandwiches, curry or stuffed in a pie,

So pass the presents round, my friends, with corners peeled and picked,

Hoping the lacy underwear you bought the missus won’t cause conflict,

And that this year, for once, you get more than 10 pairs of socks,

Something better than a festive tie, like a bout of smallpox.

So when the last mince pie’s been eaten, everyone full to burst,

The kids have broken every new toy and the family’s dispersed,

Turn off Doctor Who, leave the washing up till who knows when,

So you can hit the sales tomorrow and on New Year’s do it all again!

to that night of hollow hopes,

of a New Year’s turn,

and midnight’s cruel joke,

of beginnings anew,

as old injuries not erased,

discoloured to Winter’s hue,

the clock’s chime unphased,

by my ridiculous self-pity,

each bottle’s failed response,

is yet another night’s indignity,

for every misread nuance,

is a new memory’s pain,

scant solace found in anger,

blood-soaked knuckles in vain,

thoughts forced to wander,

each breath brings closer stillness,

my mind covets shadow,

how stagnant to obsess,

when that obsession is so shallow,

the silence strangles my thoughts,

drifting focus firmly shored,

rationality stretched taut,

hour’s falling to sanity’s ill afford,

a second life dreamt nightly,

slips further with each clawed attempt,

fantasy resurfaces to spite me,

last defence crumbled as I wept

as each avoids any form of connection and thoughts occupy spaces,

proximity brings fear, as fear brings uncertainty,

no safety within solace, no pure moment of levity,

humanity disintegrates as light fades to impurity,

breath exhaled upon stinking breath into nightlit tragedies,

the incessant rhythm of metal motion’s whine,

the void’s only indication of the passing of time,

a static moment stretched into needless necessity,

a clinical conclusion to life’s endless dependency

just the occassional weakness of the human will,

you placate yourselves with shades of grey,

ignoring the ugly truths that get in the way,

define destruction as an act of the almighty,

then scream and cry about injustice nightly,

as that drip-fed dreamworld keeps a smile on your face,

creating all those distractions to hide the disgrace

taking root within my naive fantasy,

this existence, founded on assumption,

crumbles under my discrepancies,

thoughts fester or routes not taken,

choices linger without response or reply,

a restful behemoth to awaken,

guarding every last secret and lie,

my enemies are time and consequence,

as my allies dwindle and fall,

even the unholy can’t halt this sequence,

leaving me at fate’s beckon call