X-Mask by Steven Holding.
Listen: tinsel, lists. Tin soldiers, stollen. Writing a white yuletide that no longer exists; stolen, lost.
Carol’s singing (sadist?) saddest thing ever seen, hint of eye shadow, festive red, an attempt at merriment. Too little too late. Still, magic happens, party tricks. Flip the mirror, switch reflections. A natural reflex.
Grit teeth then path, wishing for gifts. Satan Claws, ho-ho-ho-housebreaker extraordinaire. Always fails to deliver. But, like tautly tuned guitar strings, every good boy deserves favours, so spoil yourself rotten.
Slowly unwrapped. Black leather driving gloves. Woolen balaclava. Straight shaving razor. Hide behind smiles, neither nice nor naughty
Merry Christmas!
May we kiss first?
"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."
Charles Dickens.