Cluster Of Cold

[decantedjamie]

Beneath Winter

A still, smoky afternoon
is a scene through any hotel window...
Inspiration is weeping
for wings that cannot catch on my soul.

Restless and scattered and out of tune
like claustrophobic chords, the hollow
years spent in chasing and sleeping
have left nothing for me to control.

I'm longing for a thought to strike soon
as I lie, aching through the pillow.
On a rock where nothing's worth keeping,
I want more than dust to make me whole.