A Nihilist Preparing for Christmas


Soft pillows stuffed with down feathers.

Perhaps the geese were massacred
Beneath a weeping sun?

I drag a cheek veiled in stubble
Across a bedecked casing,
The fabric erupts in rasping bursts
As neck movements contort
Gesture placement. Each noise crafted
From a wince or smile,
Implies the crescendo
Of facial stubble
Cleaning the scent of cigarettes
Off fabric and rooted feathers.

I consume Laffy Taffy for a rush of glucose.
Position against uneven drywall.
Avoid mundane reflections,
Condescended inside a filthy mirror.

What reflects is what I’ve built.
Humans reprimand clarity
By believing there’s more to life,
Beyond the mirror’s frame.

I’d eat the splinters of wooden boundaries
If I truly believed consumption meant
That I would be full.

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