i wish i could keep my head
down, i wish i could keep my
nose where it belongs.

i am spectacularly good
at hurting my own feelings.

the sun shines cold
on my hot head,
i should be storing
fat for winter, hibernating
in some warm quiet cave, i am
instead marching along
on my unmerry way.

the clock falls back, my
hours lost
i sink into
the old ache in my gut telling
me, love is lost. love is
for the birds, and they've
flown further south.

you fool, you
honestly expected
honesty? the only honest thing
is snot freezing in your
cupid's bow, again
reminding you, your
entrails are
always right, your body
holds tension to render
you impenetrable, but no hurt
hurts worst.