I'm a walking ghost, I'm only alive on Christmas. It's something about those merry nights and the morning's eve.The blue florescent lights guide my eyes to temporary sanity. I've built my nest in these domestic trees, this pine needle diet is all that keeps me healthy. And the bark of this plant is the only clothing I have. Atleast in my home there really are angels living up above, there's even a scary red man hanging from the bottom branch.   My bliss comes only thrice a year.   Some nights I dream outloud of conspiring against the holidays. I'd shrink myself down to size and wait for "the decorated sky" to return. Then I'd jump into the highest snowflake, to cruise into eternity. A Grinch I Am Not.