The Weight of Time

I feel the weight of time Pressing down on my neck I thought the weight of stress would dissipate with time but the frosting no longer tastes better than the cake. How could the snow no longer look the same? Santa nothing but a monster in a closet. A hammer glimmering in the mirror. The Easter bunny with sharp bloodied teeth. The Grinch makes more sense than the Who’s. I wish I had that clamoring monkey to ignore their cheery exclaims. When did horror movies become reality? Anxiously looking around corners. Checking what’s lurking behind. Waiting for him to find me once more. To officially end me. Scared to see the color of red because blood is brighter than the color itself. Washing over me like a hot refreshing shower. Becoming my home. Because somehow awaiting my faithful end brings more assurance than anything else in this world. Murdered brings more comfort than Santa & the Easter bunny ever did.