a thin veneer
of glistening
frost
coats the world
outside
the filthy windows
that do little more
than filter out
the finer details
of another morning
in purgatorial
musings

her fingers gently stroke my aorta as she sleeps sweetly, a stuttering halt to my limbic dissolution

gray skies
mute
the typical
symphonic disharmonies
of the birds
singing
in the ghosts
of bushes
in sublime disavowment
of mythic
balls of fire
raining warm untruths