Nothing will ever be pure again,
an eternal February of blackened
snow and slush, churning
laundromat for tires of
discontent, cars of pointless lines,
voyages of the spirit in the physical.

We are earth-bound snowflakes,
born to fall and be soiled,
clinging to frail beauty,
praying to an ear-less god for life,
our lives the only thing worth
dying for, taken good or bad.
Kamikaze skydivers, star-crossed
and locked in gravity's tractor beam.
Fearing the hell of melt, craving
the safety of numbers, another
crystal to bond with, a cold
fusion of icy love, gasping;
praying to an ear-less god for death,
our lives the only thing worth
dying for, our deaths the only thing
worth living for, all the same
in the end.
all the same at the end.
all the same,
the end.