The black, billowing, A rolled smudge, a smeared bluster, Pressing me into Another blind cul-de-sac, Another never knowing.
Winter trapped on a white Bauble, snow wrapped and bright. Outside the cold, fell sight Of the bleakest, blackest night Drains peace from the Christmas light.
Foolishly I wait, Hoping that the daylight will Give me another chance To witness, experience The colour and taste of dreams.
The without within, A burgeoning leaf of frost Blossom, awaiting Crisp moments of clarity, Blue as deep blue sea ice.
Cowering away From the ghost of a lover, Haunting me in dreams, Haunting me in the daylight, Longing for exorcism.
My pathetic shape, Hunched, like failure, avoiding Eye contact, hiding In slime pits of malcontent Obscuring the scars of life.
Before me is a mirror, but I cannot see My own reflection. The only thing I can see Is the Devil in the mist.
A solitary Squat ball of elastic bands, Lines tight in orbit With tension wrapped in layers, Colours crossing to the core.
A chasing wolf pack Hunting across midnight moors, Wild and weary, Noses leading to my scent, Awaiting, expecting, devouring.
A hollow in the crowd, A bubble of purity, Singular, within, Burning only, one in flames Licking around the believer.