W' is a sick chicken wing for the boy
who did not behave well before Christmas
White and red are acts
White is an handkerchief for an old tear
Red you're a cue, Santa says reach a hand
'Q' is a murdered candy in Bobby's desires
It is this time of the year that fire seems kind
'Kpooo' and sparks; a boy's fear and laughter
I hear the church singing 'O come Emmanuel'
As a kingly star falls into our hearts
'S' is an escaping aroma from the casserole
Mummy is an artist
And daddy is a carpenter
Often it is this time of the year that beauty comes to home.
Like a woman
Anytime I looked you with lust, you fled astray.
Again you came
Smiling like a playful boy with iron canines
This time, you feigned a child and squeezed my testicles.
Often you arrive higher this way
At a completion of a parabola
Right at the base,
Hurling us inbetween coffins and graves
With a sicken essence
That we may die through struggles and still die again.
— The End —