Ahead of me
piquing my interest
a queer message
spoken in clicks
written in braille
or a dialect thereof
growing distant
it draws me
closer
pens stabbing the canvas
like an hourglass
pendulums swaying
from behind
the casing clothed
subito accelerando
end of act one
red light

I feel the warmth radiating
from your digital fireplace.
Sales at the shops aren't
any cheaper, only people.
Children's opportunity
to demand and whine,
but this time actually
get a present in return.

Christmas is back.
With its surprising
lack of snowy trees.
Shivering knees.

Christmas is back.
With its forced sense
of joy. Oh boy, aren't
we all waiting?

All across the land,
hands and toes are freezing.
Decoration makes life
seem a little more interesting
than it actually is,
don't you miss it?
The innocence of your younger days,
now you obey the tradition.

Christmas is back.
With its excuse to
shag your partner.
What a martyr.

Christmas is back.
With its fac-, its fac-,
its factory
on the North Pole.

Don't you want to hear?
My New Year's resolutions?
My annual conclusions?
My social intrusions?
My sentimental delusions?
My alcoholic abusions?
My mental pollutions?
You sure you want to hear?

Christmas is back.
Christmas is back.
Christmas is back.
Christmas is back.

Finger supports the chin
Looks towards the clouds
Deeper meaning
Ooh, art

room gapes a hollow sigh
chatter crossfires through the aisles
legs tangle to bread
undefined meat teenage cheese
pupils widen

get me to the real train
this one doesn't exist
platforms fade
clock struck gold
slapped me on the way out
faint echo from tins

worn down shoes empty statue
walks a floating umbrella
the sun beaming relentlessly
or so they told them
gazing down to look up
words spoken into our eyes
eyes form a line and turn
into blue and green squares

dissolves into ciphers
hello, hello, it coughed
spits a nest of baby birds
a rat jumps from the miniature forest
threads a sweater too hot to eat
shoes stare stomps holes in hills
blind on the inside
caught on camera