I hate the winter
not a single bone unchilled
trapped in my blanket
warm but lonely
the outside veiled in white,
reminds me of death
white with mist, not with snow
I hate the spring
it is far too cheerful
like a façade, or a satire
luckily it's quiet short
even God wants it to go away
because joy never stays
I hate the summer
it feels long and distant
it is loud and real, cold and brutal
The noisy cicadas hollering in the hazy air
and asphyxiating youth out there
and no blanket to trap myself in
I just hate how alive it is
Though I do enjoy myself in the company of Autumn
The carcasses of fallen leaves
And skeleton of the trees
It is pretty
It is silent
and the occasional rains
to put out the fire in me
Everything resembles the colour of my skin
I don’t get to see that often
I wish the cycle of seasons ceased at this point
Early Autumn
Brown Forever