The Nihilist - Five: Dog-Tired Days

Parallel went the universe someplace along the line When autumn French-kissed winter with tongues of leaf and ice; The lamp-posts dripped drab amber with a dark and dreary shine, A devil's brew of garnished sleet, elemental egg-fried rice. Night caved long and colder as day fell short, sedate, And I felt somewhat older, in my heart a dying spark; Crying out for love rekindling to alleviate the fate Of departing in pitch-blackness and returning in the dark. Tedious treadmill grinding as the Christmas pines were sawn, Down in the valley decorations sagged and popped and spat; Sizzling bulbs of neon death, ramshackle and forlorn, Greeting cards from no one close had piled up on the mat. My eyes blurred red and jaundiced in a fiery bourbon haze, Well-past midnight I still sit and hungrily imbibe; Toasting all the ghosts I knew throughout my dog-tired days, On glitzy wrapping clawed the wishes I wished to inscribe. Never has the relevance of nothing meant so much, The face of unrequited love recedes in mist and snow; The angels on the Christmas tree bestow no healing touch, Pull up the covers, settle down, there's nowhere left to go…