This Christmas packages pile up faster than good feelings, bows in plastic smothered rows. And Santa better sanitize– no more old-fashioned whispering, gloved hands, or casual lap dancing. December skies look dyed, taboo see-through clouds, but I wear the same old constellation gown, plus what I want's the same, winds turn wisdom inside out rip staked lights out the ground; the guidelines have all changed.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved





Leave a comment