Subterranean

I opened this Christmas gift holding my nose;
(I felt no spark in my soul nor no curl in my toes.)
I felt the rue of regret and the essence of sorrow;
I noticed acid reflux as the morning stood still.

I looked around at the grins and the countenance beam;
(here at the height of unwrap I experienced steam.)
Sometimes the ominous clouds bring a darker tomorrow;
often Jack Frost makes a frown on the front windowsill.

This is a tie, this is my gift, this is silk madness;
this is the last piece of cloth that I ever would want.
  This is a statement that thought just had nowhere to go;
    this is a gift emanating from somewhere below.

I felt the pique and the pull yet I tried to take stock;
(memories of long ago with the awesome Pet Rock.)
I felt a sigh rising up like a geyser expecting;
deep in my soul I repressed a desire to scream.

Red wrapping paper and bows strewn all over the floor;
(Snotty Snide inside my head snipping, Giving encore!)
Even our tabby in mood as if feline rejecting;
tail pointing down striding off in morose broken dream.

This is a tie, this is today, this is my Christmas;
this is Pierre’s imitator to wear ‘round my neck.
  This is the goading to force icy smiles from hiding;
    this is a gift emanating from someplace called Heck.


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
12-24-14