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The Weight of Time
I feel the weight of time
Pressing down on my neck
I thought the weight of
stress would dissipate
with time
but the frosting
no longer tastes
better than the cake.
How could the snow
no longer look the same?
Santa nothing but a
monster in a closet.
A hammer glimmering
in the mirror.
The Easter bunny
with sharp bloodied teeth.
The Grinch makes
more sense than the Who’s.
I wish I had that clamoring
monkey to ignore their
cheery exclaims.
When did horror movies
become reality?
Anxiously looking around corners.
Checking what’s lurking behind.
Waiting for him to find
me once more.
To officially end me.
Scared to see the color of red
because blood is brighter
than the color itself.
Washing over me
like a hot refreshing shower.
Becoming my home.
Because somehow awaiting
my faithful end
brings more assurance
than anything else
in this world.
Murdered brings more
comfort than Santa
& the Easter bunny
ever did.
Copyright ©
Kendall Moon
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