wind chill factor.

i feel the snow that isn't there
the biting destruction of my air

i give up i give up i give up


there is no romance anymore
no candleflowerkisses, brides carried through the door
to be laid across the lace, languid lover


the world is cold
and i'm too old
to ever believe it can be warmed up with
wedded bliss and chick-lit.


i'm not alone but that won't last
my bed is warm but that won't last
my bones are frost, my body masked
latticed shrouds and shadows cast


this weather has left me wanting something i can touch
that is realer than myself

i pop a pill and walk the shower-patterned ground
beneath the pillowed blank expanse, lustrous with twilight
making me--go figure--lustful
and i think to myself, i'd kill for the crash and burn of a cigarette
i'm not safe, i'm not sane, i'm not neutral
i want to be responsible for explosions.

none of these thoughts make sense, i know
and none of them have anything to do with you.

bad weather gives me bad habits.