My feet are claw-like

My hands grip the clues

Indebted I am to the front-running muse

Write a poem, a story 

Confess those cold blues

It’s fucking Christmas so

Spread the news

Of the odd reindeer you were

Of the lost elves who raised you

Of the life that you had

Of the anger that becomes you

Grow older and golden

Grow less beholden

Lead the masked and unbidden

Ride the sleigh from the lesson

You know now, you creature
of energy and sin

You know now you elder

That light is the thing

That darkness depends on

A legitimized life

That darkness lives only

In heroic light

You know now the scars

Slash darkness in time

You know now just 

how to find the rhyme

the questions keep coming

the signs won’t last

you know now what boots
tread the ongoing path

GOLD

Gold staggers
It has its
I mean fuck it has its
You know
Gold, man, it has its
Whatever
It fucking has its goddamn
Whatever gold has
It has it doesn’t it
When the nothing is sacred
The question is asked
In a uniformed naked
You know what I mean
The guardian of unsightly
You know what I lied about
When feeling uprightly
Pour the red
Light the pipe
You are looking unsightly
Which is never a
Conviction
You are looking for light now
And bowed over quite rightly
This argument
This discontent
You are pitted into a landfill of dead
In a season of gold
Like the old man says,
Hold. Fucking hold.
You are healed though unsightly
Gold. Woman. Gold.
With me you go lightly.
Fuck the jailor, the poet, the drunkard, the woman
A sewer, a mantlepiece, slave poet well spoken
This discontent
This growling resent
This voice from the past
This male unscrewing this laugh fucking last
I’ve gone on too long
Can tell by your regress
Ballet slippers on tensions
Fingers clawing the drain
I miss you sweet humans
Again, and again
I miss you sweet humans
But next time I’ll aim.