Friday, December 11, 2015

Jingle Blahs

No. Just no.

Christmas depression
isn’t just an expression.
All the damn cheer
drives me to drink beer.

The torture started in October.
Christmas decorations lurk.
Plastic Santas smirk
behind Halloween skeleton dogs.

The autumn slaughter of pine trees had already begun.
Happily green; growing, unaware of their impeding death.
Their fate to be displayed in an ugly mall.
Only to be dumped once holiday fun
was done.

Christmas carols make me want to heave.
Jingle Bells
ring in holiday hell.
A White Christmas. . .
I’m dreaming
of never hearing it again.
Deck the Halls. . .
I avoid the malls.

I dread
to go to parties
and pretend to be hearty.
When I secretly
long to go home
and crawl into bed
Crowds are too loud.
Nothing of interest is said

The yard lights are pretty.
But not for myself.
Thanksgiving is way too soon
to see the giant blow-up elf.
It makes me swoon
with its moronity.

So Christmas,
please leave.
And with you take
dreadful New Year’s Eve.