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On Christmas Eve


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On Christmas Eve,

I'll beat my meat.

I'll meet some sweet

Nude Elves and read

Their minds that blow

And snort it, grow

A beard to see it

powdered to

The root, my nose,

My memories,

I'll smell a rose,

I'll dream and wake.

 

For f*ck's sake.

 

This made me laugh, good job. I got the image of a cock-addled Santa penning this in desperation for some odd reason. The whole thing confuses me, I don't know what the narrator is waking up from. If you really had to ask me, I think it's some form of seeing how Christmas Eve is viewed from as a child, to how an adult sees it, and the cynicism of it as opposed to a child. I am clutching at straws, I know. I just liked the image this little piece shot at me.

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