my xmas poem; i hope it doesn’t sound too sad
suicide looks festive when using xmas lights,
green, blue, red, and white,
while dressed as a depressed santa
overfed from rum-soaked ham with a side of yams
coated in fermented cane syrup left in an anaerobic barrel
for 3 weeks prior to this,
oh glorious,
of days passed down by tradition,
to be passed out while screaming at the television
for the little uniformed men
to perform uniformed movements,
as demonstrations of athletic prowess
feel forced but necessary,
forced into the necessary,
excessive, obsessive, desultory
Fred Aiken Writing 