There's a drizzeling outside 

and a crackling fire. 

We've been inhaling dust

working the sores on our hands 

once again. 

Once again I hear the song.

The melody that makes my spine shiver as if 

I was standing in a bitter bliazzard. 

I bite my teeth hard

not wanting to go to sleep

not wanting to deal with another day of doubt.

We live in this world of paper

and bodies

and words

and wonder why it is people wish for death. 

I can feel the cold on my toes up

to my ears and the hug 

of the blanket can't reach either. 

It's not the sun I'm missing

its the joy

the carelessness

the smiles.

I hate this dark and cold and dust. 

Times like this I wish I liked

alcohol

so I could get drunk

recite Bukowski 

and sleep an unwanted sleep.