My Christmas Day

Christmas No. 50 it's back cold again somewhere between 35 and my fingers are about to fall off Christmas shows over populate the cable but this year i don't mind i'm at home with mom Christmas eve with a hidden bottle of vodka and the next day Christmas a cigarette asking where's the beer and vodka thats suppose to go with it it threatens me with a heart attach before i put it out it was time to make the move back home the home where i live (convieniantly mom has to make a pastorial visit to the hospital i pack and am ready to go.) and as allways how will i get there with the booze? get out of moms car and find away metro link, walgreens, home mission accomplished cigarettes no longer a threat a few toys were delivered before the day was over just like santa while the children slept i hope they don't wake me in the morning the day after christmas it's the thought that counts right? while on the metro i wondered "does it mater that i spent more on booze than presents?" my concious is tettering like a see saw not really it's sitting level even though i mintion it it's just a foot note in a poem one more hour of christmas left and less than a quarter page for me to finish but it will get posted all great people have an alcoholic stage in life this is mine i reach for another beer and my drink that i make strong for ciggie i don't ever drink and drive but i have an aquaintiance who this week killed a seventeen year old mixing his drinking and driving one last line paper gone i'm sorry, everyone.