Snowflakes fall to the earth like suicide jumpers. And I laugh because if I don't I have to listen to the silence. Or worse. And I laugh because I don't want to hear myself crying.
Waiting for icicles to form, and splinter, and crack under their own weight -- These are the games that plague souls; Wishing away the snow with feet planted in blizzards, Staring at the moon and trying to bathe in the last dripping morsels of sunlight shining onto the earth.
I lay buried so far beneath laughter and snowflakes that I am too cold to touch. Touch me and scatter the blisters on my tongue, For words are only dipped in honey, but it cannot hide the hollows inside.