eve.

it's a little colder this christmas.

i gaze out the window and see conked out christmas lights playing an out of tune holiday melody. the moon gazes down on the gloom of concrete and dust and no one seems to gaze back up. a multitude of nameless faces greet you at the gates of a consumerist paradise, never smiling, never stopping. and as you enter the house of madness, incessant noises swallow you whole until you remain plastered into the milieu of insanity.

currency flows as the bloodline of the masses. with the sounds of crumpling paper and clinking coins, sterile greetings are exchanged, but never meant. face muscles are contracted to mimic a smile because that is what is expected. and tonight as they feast on the carcasses of animals, they are vilified. the apex of a year's worth of tribulation. when they gaze around their domicile of infected holiday spirit, with a seven ft. tall plastic tree, decorated to oblivion with every trinket known to man, they feel comfort. it is a far cry from a coca-cola holiday postcard but it doesn't matter.

it may not snow outside the street. the windows may not fog up. yet no one can deny the fact.

it's a cold, cold christmas...

because we are missing the point.