Thursday, December 15, 2022


 Cruelest Month

I get the argument that April is the cruelest month

Every spring it all comes storming back

Flaunting it in our faces 

Bloom after fucking bloom

But not for us.  

Just one blossoming for the likes of us 

And the bulk of our petals have already fallen 

December is a different kind of suffering 

Carved out of modern time as a marketing scam

Driven by quarterly Capitalist sales demands

Did I buy enough?

Was I too selfish?

Did I waste a year of life?

Will I ruin Christmas?

And how all that phony nostalgia and Auld Lang Syne 

Preys upon our sense of running out of time 

It’s just winter, I tell myself 

Next month will be even colder

So many things are dying 

Even the snow wants to melt 

The grass has given up on green 

I struggle just to stay warm

December tries to trick us into thinking 

A mere flip of the calendar 

Cleans the slate

A full factory reset, wherein,

By some miracle, we all get another chance 

In this brand new year 

But we ought not fall for that 

It’s just a long trek forward, unrefreshed

Only a year older, jankier, and wearier

At least April is honest

Showing how the world replenishes 

Itself when we’re gone,

How it carries on

Just fine without us 

December is the young vixen 

Whispering libidinous longings in your ear

When all she really wants is your money

The days now are so short

Late afternoon is darker than the cobwebbed crawlspace

In the abandoned barracks of the skeleton army 

You have to become broken enough

To write by the light that shines

Through your shattering of fissures, 

A glow that strengthens with a proper aging 

It requires a certain kind of courage 

To live as if you only get one life 

Blocked out in four week chunks

With December as the very last month

Pegged to a wall, interminably flapping 

In the breeze like an intractable curse

We’d be a lot happier if we listened to April

But we’d rather die

Than lose our sense of self 

And so here we are, maudlin fools

Checking off dates, working

Our way through hours and months 

Right up until the stroke

Of midnight, on December 31st.


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