someone wiser than me once said something
about how all things come in their
proper season

Well summer's gone away,
long since.
It was hot
and we bore our chests
and hiked the hills
but the season is past now.

The snow is plummeting gently,
whispering loudly,
shadowy white.

someone wiser and younger and purer than I once said something
about learning to enjoy the comedown
rather than submitting to resentment,
and so I am.
The wave crests and falls
and rises again
simultaneously
and I'm embracing sleeplessness
like a bat on the wing
and listening to the silent symphony
of translucent crystalline ice

plummeting gently,
whispering loudly,
shadowy white.

Enough of summer!
Bring on the blankets of frigidity!
Bring on coldness!
Bring on the night!
Give me death so that I might live!

Let sleeplessness comfort the lonely,
let sobriety **** drunkenness,
let hunger feed me.

Let death give me life.