february weather wears me down,
unrelenting tedious winter;
ice and hail and snow on the ground.
take an icepick to my eye balls,
gouge out this whiteness blinding me,
with colourless bland monotony.
charcoal grey clouds killed my gaiety;
so now I lie cocooned under wool.
do not dare to disturb this quagmire,
that is now the manifestation,
of what perhaps was a human soul.
i the living La Brea tar pits,
will pull you down to dark doom,
entangle you in my stickiness.
there is no escape from this despair.
february has consumed all hope;
i will go naked into the storm,
lay me down in deep icy snowdrifts,
leaving raw angelic impressions,
as I wander aimlessly seeking,
the love that I lost long, long ago.
you were the only one that ever,
could radiate warmth into my life.
And now I can’t even remember,
if you ever were really here.
why is it so cold?
why is it so dark?
why is it I cry?
why is there no reply?
february calls me out to her;
it’ll be alright if I answer,
she’ll know what to do,
I should go.
It is a February challenge to myself – to write novel poetry: One-a-day.