What a relaxing time Christmas can be,
said no big family ever.

Was it good for you?
said he,
She never replied.

But it's fun and the sum of all good wishes.

There'll be more

Blinded by the flares we'd thought behind us
thinking how in hell did that mustard manage to blind us,
we wandered home as ghosts alone
wondering did this war define us.

A full belly
a bit of telly
an afternoon
with family and
friends,

had forty winks,
methinks
I'm getting old

but I think again
not yet.

If only I'd believed it was butter
I wouldn't have to work today,

but we all know that belief gets in the way of disbelief
and disbelieving is the way that things are going,

I put the blame squarely on Google,
what could possibly be worse
than a multiverse in your own
backyard?

and now
I think it might be butter
but I still have to work
how is that right?

I surrender to the inevitable,
and become irritable
but am I not invincible?
She laughs and says,
you're incredible.

Because
I was wired
and not
into the mains
but somewhere off-grid,
my life leaking into
the drains

yeah
everything is sharp then
and you know the why and the when of it
and how your life turned to **** then,


but recovery
is only the upholstery
there has to be a framework
to work on.

Back to the season of Goodwill
and he
quickly looks in the kitchen drawer
and pulls out a happiness pill,

suspended in animation
still at Waterloo station
waiting for a late train.

some cover the cracks with 'smack'
some use lines of *******,
the happiness pill works wonders
and cures all kinds of pain,
but
I used up all my medications
no more prescriptions for me
I'm
settling now for a digestive
and
a streaming hot beaker of tea.

So
That's okay then
you'll call me
when you want to then

meanwhile
I should smile
to hide the tears
then?