After the Christmas Cookies a collection of musings to a poetic beat.

There is a place of morbid rest

Where tounge and pallet dare to cease.

The stalking wonder now comes to nest,

The question of the weight increase.

The bulging growth cannot be blamed

On growing child or bloats that remained

From a rancid piece of chicken wing

Dined on from a circus ring.

There truth lies here.

I have grown fatter.

The beginning draws near

I'll choose the latter.

To be thin again....oh to be thin again...Ithink I do remember what it felt like.

and I think it felt nice.