Which softens a bit from my heated blood
The light from the wick does not help me relax
Nor does the freezing and knee-deep mud
The darkness flows from the new moon
And though all that I hear is whistling wind
My heart beats fast for I know that soon
The time will come for me who has sinned
Cerberus’s howls pierce my soul with fear
My flickering candle goes out in the mud
Tepid breath and warm mist breathe at my rear
With a growling laugh that hungers for blood
My eyes closed, my last breath deeply drawn in
Then Christmas bells! My alarm saved me again.
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey
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