It’s the most bountiful time of the year.
All retailers are crowing
The profits are growing
They smile ear-to-ear
It’s their greatest time of the year.

We people are hocking,
To stuff our kids stockings,
Wth jewels we bought all year long.
We want to make sure
That we can insure
We don’t take a parental step wrong.

It’s the bankruptingest time of the  year.
No one quite gives a ****
That the whole things a scam
To sell clothing and beer
We go further in debt every year.

We’ll fight to pay rent
Nearly thirty percent
Goes to pay all the interest off.
We take extra jobs
Like all working slobs
All year we don’t dare get a cough.

It’s the most co-dependent of times.
It’s all about image
And holiday scrimmage
As if we’re not a victim of crime.
And pretending we saved one little dime.

Dependence. I danced with dependence that night. A disgusting word on its own, but when you say co-dependence, now it sounds nicer, right? It sounds more socially acceptable. It sounds like adoration. But I hear heartbreak. I hear one misstep and the whole dance crumbles. I hear stepping on toes and twisting ankles. I hear broken sobs, and a strained "I'm sorry." I feel the pain that courses through your whole entire body. I feel the vibration of the living earth, and the struggling breaths just trying to get some **** air into those stubborn lungs. But you're still thinking about how soft his hands were and how you'll never get to feel them again. I hear disaster. I hear "What now?" I hear grieving. I feel his hands.

It's never completely there to begin with, it never was.
Occasionally a piece is ripped, exposed.
Bit by bit i've lost all but one.
It's real dry, barely there, a feeble cry.
Don't let me turn to dust.