A Family Christmas

If I could see through
The wall of
Second hand smoke
I could put a face to
My uncle's voice
That's spewing mountains
Of bull-shit
Bigger than Everest


Sitting in this "house"
My muscles are sore
From trying hard not to move
If I lean against the wall
I might remove some of the grime
And reveal it's actual color
If I sit on the floor
I might die from too much
Mold intake from the
Use-To-Be carpeting


Also, I'm becoming rather light-headed
Because I'm trying to breathe
As little as possible
To breathe in too deep
Would be sending the angels
Your death wish
And breathing too little
So that you pass out
Would be a fortunate mercy


And at every moment
I'm trying not to vomit
Much less think about
All the different odors
Making themselves at home
In my clothes
In my skin
And in my hair
What's worse is I can almost feel
Their vile intrusion
Of my being


Ya know, I can
Hear her coughing over there
Only it doesn't
Sound quite like coughing
It sounds like
She's on her last weaze
Like the air is choking her
Cancer-filled lungs
And at any moment
She'll stop moving in her
Rotting chair


Mostly, I pitty our dog
Whose sense of smell
Far suprasses my own
And who is covered entirely of fur
I wish to give her a bath so hot
That it takes off her coat
I am fully certain that
She would thank me


But what I'm trying most at
Is actually keeping my sanity
My own
I'm trying to throw up barriers
Against the intruding gospel music
And trying to count away the seconds
Until we leave