languishing in
this festively
depressive haze
laying on the floor
making angels in
the ashes of dream
fashioning nooses
out of tinsel
to hang myself
above the chimney
with a flourish of
holiday indifference
from fool to a
malformed pinata
filled with the
effervescent sorrrows
beaten daily by
an iron rod of
unfulfilled desires
an advent calendar
where each new door
opens unto a spectacle
of miserable affirmation

it’s beginning to look
a lot like a breakdown