In Cold, In Warmth

[kevemo]

secret/hidden

the hay ridden loft, dusty
a ladder towards the top can barely muster it's own courage to stand up
wind bustles along the missing siding creating a small racket
concrete debris and mud squished between the toes again
the sky breathes plenty of entry through cracks in the metal shingles
a clock is found dead near broken florescent lights
it's pungent with the stench of a rotten afterlife
staggering toward my tasteless dresser
what to wear? what to wear?