It’s not so cold
when there’s other things to ponder.
Despite the wind that provoked my bare legs
I was warm with oblivion.
It wasn’t peace or calamity that kept me still.
Nor was it that I was content or accepting
hushed, lulled and glazed
I was fitting in.
You’d think , with all the silence
clarity would come easily.
Instead I conjure jumbled confusion;
a fight for some concentration and attention
captivated and immediately aware,
my focus turns to a single sound;
a haunting howl determined to shatter the night
into sharp shards of broken reflection
A sad moan
that mournful cry
resounding from everywhere
and coming from no where.
When did it get so cold?
goose bumped legs jolt into motion
while lucidity resolves
to make an unexpected appearance.
Split me apart
take the superior parts
and leave the fucked up bits
for someone else to trash
let me follow in your wake
carry me on your hollow wail
and show me why
it sounds so sweet