When I was a little kid,
I was afraid of Santa.
Of course I believed in him, what kid wouldn’t.
I guess I just thought it was creepy that some old man would break into my house
and leave me gifts underneath a tree.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the gifts.
I just always thought it was weird that Santa had the same handwriting as my mom...
Or we had the same wrapping paper as Santa...

Now that I am older,
I realize that Christmas isn’t always a good time.
Sure,
We get the chocolate and the food,
We get to see and talk to family we haven’t seen in ages,

But we’ve lost loved ones,
Families have been split,
Christmas just doesn’t have that same magic anymore,
or the feeling in your stomach when you wake up on christmas morning.
Pointing out gifts under the tree like constellations in the sky
The mystery in whats inside the paper baffles our small minds,
until the gift is in my hands,
The magic just isn’t there.

Frankly,
I would do anything to have that feeling I had on Christmas morning when I was younger.
Not a worry in the world.
All of the toys were awesome,
and I didn’t really have to get gifts for anyone else,
Of course I miss Christmas the way it used to be,
Except getting up at like 5am, I’m pretty sick of that.

Christmas with only two guys in the house is pretty interesting now.
Our nights are usually spent eating chicken wings and listening to loud Rock ‘n Roll,
But with how things are now without the magic,
I wouldn’t want it any other way.

you're pretty during the day, but
you're beautiful at night when the
only light in the room is coming from
the dreams that are spilling quickly
out of your mouth and your hands are
shaking because they have never held mine
but i want to fill yours with phrases like
'i drink my coffee black' and
'tuesdays are my favorite days'
so you can get to know me without my
tongue quivering and creating broken
sentences that you wouldn't understand
and your skin is soft and your hair smells
like peppermint and i want a love with
you that's more picturesque than your cupid's bow is
and i want to kiss you so hard that
you won't forget it because
i know i won't forget
you

take two, it'll help you relax*
with tears swelling behind her baby blues, she wanted nothing more
to relax
it looked like a ******* crime scene when she tried to open the bottle
little white capsules sprinkle the sink
suddenly she wanted more than to just relax in her bed
she wanted to sink her body into the ground and relax for a long time
only two? why not three
or four.
not too many, but just enough
to relax

it has been more than a hundred days
since I gave myself a scar
but last week I paid a doctor
to give me three of them
(how oxymoronic of me)
-

we expose tiny pieces of ourselves
shards of bare skin, constricted by vulnerability
as if sharing a blanket in a snowstorm
and in order to help your other half stay warm,
one must expose tiny pieces
bear with the bad, to
share the good
warmth

When I was little,
if I were scared,
I would crawl into my mothers bed to fall asleep,
to feel safe.

Now,
The monsters in my closet and under my bed come lay with me as the monster in my mind makes them feel the need to be safe.
Silently the monster takes control of my darkened room,
The wind applauding every dark thought that my mind generates and pulses through my veins

A chill slithers down my spine although I’m sweating,
I kick my legs and roll around,
like a wrestling match,
my body versus my mind
I wonder who will win.