Although we endure our breaths in this this shack upon the shore,
The icebergs lurk before us clearer than ever before.
Dancing animatedly in our Siberian tundra,
like a hero taking selfish refuge before the storm.

I think we should try on these tiny snow shoes anyway
and swim through the snow that's buried us beneath our fragile beating sleigh.  
I keep putting my thumb on display,
exposing my heart to these wolves that transpire around us day by day.

I envy their silent and still tails
that rest quietly, sturdy and as deadly as nails.
My thoughts recognize an after party to hide my pain
that I only partake in to seem less insane.

So I coach my brain to copulate with my emotions
rather than with the hurricane motions of the ocean of your brain.
It all seems transparent to me now,
a ghost in my chest pounding to get out somehow.