Winter Santa Claus

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


Fantasy. Drugs.

Submitted: May 03, 2018

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Submitted: May 03, 2018

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Winter Santa Claus

 

 

A winter Santa Claus

Climbs threw the broken glass

With an empty pillow case.

He stashes everything

That's in the dangerous drugs cabinet

Into his pillow case.

The winter Santa Claus

At two in the morning

Returns with a bag of tricks

Or lightning,

Depending on the dose.

His face crushed against the rain

Soaked glass shouting,

" And coke too... and coke too..."

The astronomer wakes 

From a clockwork dream

And ends up at the back

Of a factory, 

Climbing over barb-wire

Away from the guard dogs.

Winter Santa Claus opens the contents

Of his pillow case.

The astronomer observes

The white crystal nirvana,

Or spew,

Depending on the dose.

The astronomer

Listens to the refrigerator

Hum starlight,

He listens to motor bikes

Accelerating,

Reaching further up

His spine.

He feels the claws of pleasure

Ripping into his nervous system,

An orgasm crescendo of snow.

He hears sped piano riffs.

His eyes burst across his face.

His eyes are blown through his sunglasses

Into the stars.

His brain is white light,

A cerebral orgasm.

He studies astronomical calanders.

He is God listening to the frigerator hum.

He is the cryptographist transmitting secret messages,

As the guard dogs bark and growl.

He translates elecrtic codes,

And then falls into a heap

On one of the benches.

The refrigerator hums

From the centre of the universe.

The refrigerator hums,

A generator,

A dynamo of pleasure,

As he watches the rainbows

Torture the floor,

As he descends the Big Dipper,

As the delusions come.

He jibbers to the early morning,

As he lays on the floor

Staring through

The crack under the door.

He observes the shapes and creatures

Of B grade horror movies.

He is wasted in space,

In a deserted factory.


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