ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Twas the Night Before Christmas

And all through the flat.
George and Henry were stirring.
Just like normal cat(s).

All day I spent preening.
Making my self feel so good.
And chatting with girlfriends.
Stuffing our faces with food.

To the party with friends.
We laughed and we laughed.
Then we held Yankee Swap.
And a few got the shaft.

In a fresh pair of jammies.
And clean sheets on the bed.
The presents under the tree.
Will dance in the dreams in my head.

So good night my dear web.
I write with a yawn.
Wishing you the sweetest slumber.
And Merry Christmas at dawn!

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