The corners of her smile, reached over and took a hold of her ears
While her eyes jumped from each of mine.
I watched as fond turned to love, and love turned to tears,
As her fingers made their way down my spine,
*Your hair may smell like cider; and your mouth may taste of beers,
- But your love will always be a scarlet red wine.

they tell her she is pretty on facebook
and truth be told,
she has a face like a southern bell...
but she sits with her hands folded
and her ankles crossed
and tips her head ever so slightly to the side,
chin raised
light glinting off
the brooch on her kohl's sweater...

she is not pretty
to me.

she has perfect cheekbones
big eyes
pouty lips
but she sits
like a doll
stiff,
posed,
placed
perfectly
intently
eyes
bright
i want to
smack her until the rag doll comes out
she is too perfect
too sweet
she is so sweet
that she is
sour
to me

Four days left 'till Christmas
I'm trying to get home to you
I'm in Nevada in the mountains
With the sky an eerie blue
I'm driving past my limit
Awake on pills and joe
Trying to get back cross the country
Trying to beat the coming snow

Snowflakes burst like little bombs
On my windscreen in the night
I can't see where I'm going
My blades are frozen tight
I'm driving to the image
That is fading out of sight
I'm gonna get back home for Christmas
I'm gonna help make Christmas right

Three days now till Christmas
In the Dakotas, stuck in snow
My windows frozen open
And you should hear the winter blow
I'm not stopping 'till I get there
Although you seem so far away
I'm gonna be back home for Christmas
I'll be with you on Christmas Day

Snowflakes burst like little bombs
On my windscreen in the night
I can't see where I'm going
My blades are frozen tight
I'm driving to the image
That is fading out of sight
I'm gonna get back home for Christmas
I'm gonna help make Christmas right

Two days now till Christmas
In Minnesota, freezing cold
I've  drunk five thermos'  full of coffee
I've put my bladder right on hold
I'm blazing through the streamers
Right through the drifts, some ten feet high
I'm driving back to you for Christmas
I'll be back home, unless I die


Snowflakes burst like little bombs
On my windscreen in the night
I can't see where I'm going
My blades are frozen tight
I'm driving to the image
That is fading out of sight
I'm gonna get back home for Christmas
I'm gonna help make Christmas right

One more day till Christmas
I've crossed the line into our state
I'll make it home to you by morning
So, Christmas breakfast...it's a date
I've driven across the country
To get back home, where I should be
I'll be there when you both wake up
Waiting by the Christmas tree

Snowflakes burst like little bombs
On my windscreen in the night
I can't see where I'm going
My blades are frozen tight
I'm driving to the image
That is fading out of sight
I'm gonna get back home for Christmas
I'm gonna help make Christmas right

Tracing the path to higher consciousness
with trembling toes and withering eyes.
beyond the picket fence I saw the
very essence of human suffering.

An abyss of deceit and I was just staring.
within arms reach but something stopped me
from lending myself to an almost hopeless cause.
it was my skin, my flesh.
and boy had it been some time;
the rigidity of bone holding my arms in place.
But as I reached towards these dying people
my skin just couldn't reach.

So I reverted back to my ethereal self
continuing this journey,
trying to blur the overwhelming of the cries around me.
but my intentions are not so selfish as they seem;
how could I spread peace to others
without having found my own?