For Christmas I received

The Corpse of the earth, bleeding—pale

And I tried to sneeze my joy out through

A swimming headache of a grateful grin

But my ego was melting like the ice caps

And I knew that Christ had been stuffed and

Abandoned in the attic, to rats with lazy eyes,

God and Grandmother have crumbled into mildew

Soon they will be just a strange glint in the clouds

That will make our stomachs turn with a sickness that will

Eat us from the inside, so we’ll fill ourselves

Up with carbon gases, plastic, and more Stuff

Up and up and up, until we’ve erupted into

Another World, where the Sun is Ourselves

And that Thing which we can only smell with our Nostalgia

Draws rattling breaths like Nightmare Trees

Buried in the Earth and in Corners of the Air

And its Dead silence will be our eternal punishment.