Long and cold winters and unoccupied idle minds,
staring at the stark fold of nothingness mangles
and depletes the boredom. Where do the hours
go without
Long and cold winters and unoccupied idle minds,
staring at the stark fold of nothingness mangles
and depletes the boredom. Where do the hours
go without
The mornings bring their misery and reassurance of my life’s decline, hollow the marrow of life, empty the cup of hope and filled the plate...