the cold like pins and needles along my shivering legs even under the blanket in hoodie curled in a lonesome ball of ambiguous dismay

somewhat requiring some vapid facsimile of mother’s milk or winsome female camaraderie in which to stoke the fires of heartwood stirring the embers

huddled on the couch buried deep down it feels like everything is nothing the waters of genesis so was the nothing above separated from the nothing within

maybe there is just winter’s breath on the back of my neck an errant kiss from that emptiness insipidly leeching the warmth from my monchrome soul

it’s gotten so i cannot tell three in the morning from three in the afternoon because it is all just the same pathetic mewling dribbling ineffectually over my blue lips