(For some reason, I had a sudden urge to have more children burst in to flames in yet another poem. Luckily, I controlled my inhuman urges. Be proud.)



I tried to drown myself
in a drunken wasteland
the children are laughing
at the table next to me
it must be Christmas
the huge tree
with all the little lights blinking
what else is blinking?
that survivor, with their red light
spelling out “help me please”
the little sound of someone speaking to me
a ring, so friendly and sincere
I drown myself in this wasteland
because it’s the only comfort I receive
it’s warm and pleasant and forgetful
isn’t it funny?
all I ever wanted was a hug
I suppose no one ever understood, they never do
and now the thunder is starting outside
on the inside, it’s incredibly warm and inviting
the places to sit are all a little more coma-inducing
isn’t it lovely,
how beautiful this wasteland can be?
almost toxic, almost life-threatening
I’m just so glad now
to have an imaginary friend who cares
the dizziness and the coma are, inviting
with all of the children
they’re gathered around the tree,
and they all…fall…….


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