Flowers in the window
Seek sunlight, but the glass
Lets little through and the wind blows
Mighty out of their reach.
The furnace burns without
I'm hearing spring again,
But flowers in the window
Stay dying every season.
Winter
Summer
And the others
Make no difference
To a flower in the window.
To a petal left to wilt.

Little nooks have passed tonight
And new beginnings bore us on
But I fear nothing now
Crouch again I shan't

Loathe all above you
Curse the lightning struck so far away
But sleep with me, soft tails of hope
I am your burrow tonight

What minds are temples to these eyes?
What thoughts are wrought of dragon sleep?
What power lies awake at night
Fearing, fearing clouds?

What water stirs the millers opinion?
What algae slinks from murky adoption?
I'm you, I'm you,
The cuckoo sobs
And all else wears its feelings.

For lions may dance
Lions may sing
And lions fear no raindrop's glory
I chill, I scream, but not for your sake
For my own terrifying passage
And what is to come

Remember, boy
The sherpa'd pray
Don't build your dreams
On what others say
Don't float your canoe
On the reeds of others' promises
The wolf skin gives no warmth, no
Love is a salve to its final growl.

And remember, youth
The harlot told
No love may glitter
Brighter than gold
The ivory teeth
May chatter and squeak
As much as my joints
On my wooden, bent-backward frame.

Don't forget,
She'd order
Don't forget me
I shook my head
No time to
Ask her name
I gloomed over my fireplace
And settled down to the ink-spilled night,
My own skin
Warmer than the moon, at least.

I don't remember
Having an answer
For this buried
Putrid in me
Grey that I feel

I don't believe
In what's special
About me my
Melancholic attention to
All I disagree
Exists, furrowed relationships
Between cells in
My mind, exist

If I move
Towards what I'm
Afraid of, I
Can forget it's
My guiding star
And smell flowers
And talk conversations
But all I
Work for is
Still hopeless. Word.