and yet again another dreary winter is at the door.
exonerations and hunchbacked nights,
grappling with the keys of a ribbon-less typewriter,
delay the professing of a thousand and one sins,
gilded off shot candles light a way, a shot in the dark if you will
stumbling over cliche after cliche, as i struggle to find words in my disaster
felt a drizzle from the street lamp, the trolley cars and the passing merry-makers,
only a reminder of my voiceless days, my lonely ones. Their pretty little heads shod with
party-favors and squint light halos.
The radio drones on over land barren blast, a snow drift arrival and a congratulatory stare.
grappling with the keys of a ribbon-less typewriter,
delay the professing of a thousand and one sins,
gilded off shot candles light a way, a shot in the dark if you will
stumbling over cliche after cliche, as i struggle to find words in my disaster
felt a drizzle from the street lamp, the trolley cars and the passing merry-makers,
only a reminder of my voiceless days, my lonely ones. Their pretty little heads shod with
party-favors and squint light halos.
The radio drones on over land barren blast, a snow drift arrival and a congratulatory stare.