Tuesday 12/25/2007 12:49:00 AM

Looking for god on the one night she imagined, if he could, he might appear. Adjusting her compass for the magnetism of so many miracles she decided to go ahead and buy the Jesus toast. even if I'm not saved, at least i won't go to hell hungry.

Don't bother me, she shouted at the ringing phone. I'm busy forgetting all the people I never knew. I've been advertising my pain all this time. Obviously, no one's buying.

I've been selling myself in these rags so long. Why is naked only now occurring to me? So many clothes to choose from and I'd rather be ignored. Than noticed because of what was concealing my skin.

Wanting. Who doesn't want more? The mortgage of life is a voracious beast. Hungrier for more with every taste.

I'd like a miracle. Of course I would, but I'd rather have the truth.

Tell the universe I'm not afraid. It can bully me all it wants. I won't give up my lunch money.

There is no tree tall enough. Nor candles that can burn so long. To make the world less dark. But it's still pretty when they fall asleep with the lights on. People bleeding through to the other side of the page. Like they won't be forgotten when Christ is gone.

Christmas is every day.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.