Snow burdened the weary leaves,
Drooping in view of the shivered fence.
There I sat blushing my knuckles,
Uncertain of movement around this chair.
I remember the etching stone,
With silent squeaks,
That circled my brain.
Grievingly aware of departing clouds.
There I sat with no muscle,
To find with sight a consuming abyss.
Littered with glinting, white eyes;
Like a madness scatters nails.
And then dark oversee,
Dark, blackest light
Spat out my eyes...
Burn an old barrel.
Snow burdened these weary leaves,
And I surveyed the depth of the fence.
For now I may hang out my hands,
Sitting alone on this frozen park bench.