The Nihilist - Five: Dog-Tired Days
Parallel went the universe someplace along the line
When autumn French-kissed winter with tongues of leaf and ice;
The lamp-posts dripped drab amber with a dark and dreary shine,
A devil's brew of garnished sleet, elemental egg-fried rice.
Night caved long and colder as day fell short, sedate,
And I felt somewhat older, in my heart a dying spark;
Crying out for love rekindling to alleviate the fate
Of departing in pitch-blackness and returning in the dark.
Tedious treadmill grinding as the Christmas pines were sawn,
Down in the valley decorations sagged and popped and spat;
Sizzling bulbs of neon death, ramshackle and forlorn,
Greeting cards from no one close had piled up on the mat.
My eyes blurred red and jaundiced in a fiery bourbon haze,
Well-past midnight I still sit and hungrily imbibe;
Toasting all the ghosts I knew throughout my dog-tired days,
On glitzy wrapping clawed the wishes I wished to inscribe.
Never has the relevance of nothing meant so much,
The face of unrequited love recedes in mist and snow;
The angels on the Christmas tree bestow no healing touch,
Pull up the covers, settle down, there's nowhere left to go…
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