Confessions Of A Mall Santa Poem by Jeffrey Quattlebaum

From here I can see Hell

I can feel the hot breath of the devil on my neck

I am in Hell

From early morning until the clock will release me

The devil’s minions manifest before me

And they mutter nonsense through their broken teeth

And as I am aware of this trickery

I am bound to play along

From early morning

Taking orders from a beast of a man

With his very existence being something I question

By the fact he plays Xmas songs on the radio

And enjoys them, sings along with them

The same titles, sung by different singers

All of which are terrible and any man caught

With these in their possession should be bound

And taken from their homes and beaten with Santa’s belt

Yes, I am in Hell everyday

I live it right now.

I deal with the absolute truth

And it is not pretty, not at all.

Like being in a madhouse there are different horrors to face

and I loathe

and curse their faces

their voices making my skin crawl from my body

they speak to me in broken sentences

and they suggest they are not human

which makes sense

because that is exactly what I think