Winter

The darkness closes in
like the rising of the tide
Bringing with it a deparate cold chill

With a wind of ice needles
Stabbing relentlessly. Stealing
Breath and will.

It burns my skin, my eyes, my being
I scream. Lungs ripped by the melancholy
Freeze until voice is soundless.

trying to hide beneath facades, ballroom
masks of elegance. The raw texture of
my flesh remains exposed.

I yearn, call on bended knee. A prayer
Unanswered. Abandoned. Devoid
Of all that was once abundant.

So little strength. So little more.
Beckoning the onset of future unknown
To guide me towards the common goal.

Hand becomes fist, muscles tensed to
strike out, to inflict and relish.
Taste the blood on my lips.

Whirlwind of punished energy
Throws me out, spits far.
Soul cracked, chipped, a yard sale china plate.

Untitled

In the dark the hum of morning stirs
The chill air settled crisp upon the grass
Inside all is silent, close, calm.
Eyes still red with night awake in
The blackness again and again.
Thoughts freely miander
Across plains of sleep and consiousness
Firing in sporadic motion like a
Shoal of fish.

Engines purr below, work to be done
as sleepy drivers hold near their Tims.
Up here the world still rests. Missing their
Company. Scribbled thoughts a happy
Substitute. Bringing closer the warmth
Of body and comfort of breath.
Dreams of lighter days, days of sun that
seem long gone.