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snow storm
littlemaenad
1 Mar 2005
You walk in a snow storm, lips pursed face upturned to the sky, trying to capture fat tumbling flakes or whispered missives from a world more decadent and depraved than the one in which you eke out a tame and uninspired existence.
Despair clutches your fragile beating heart with icy fingers as you ascribe feelings of joy, hope, pain and misery to musical words that always belong to someone else, never you.
With their tortured threads of thought and emotion that unravel you further minute by minute until you’re unrecognisable, you attempt to express the amassing feelings of discontent in your soul. You darn the holes but in the end you are sewn up and unravelled time and again so that you bear no similarity to the creature you were when things began, as pure and sweet and simple and good.
It snowed today
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