In all seriousness, looking woebegone in a plight to chase hyacinth in a pile of snow,
regardless of synecdoche of your embarrassment;

In a four-wall Angry **** soul of doom,

We are laying on a pile of Cacti,
Fibonacci sequences of nature adding thorns
To miniature quilts and houses,

You dig and get more cacti,
And you bury yourself beside it.