there is nothing dangerous of this life.
eyes do not close to greet
a savage intention, some greedy drunk passion,
a bar attended.
my view is never seductive, challenging, wanton.
the window to my left
fills with sadness. it is a frightening and still life.
the roof produces gutters, fills with leaves
outlined in a winter this year
crisp and sweet like ice.
the roof, covered in snow
entangles.
the room, painted blue
darkens. deepens into a denser fright, holding
a cold breath off of anxiety
a panicked frenzy of empty.
the sky, i have never seen quite so unfeeling,
unfriendly. a shade brighter white,
nuclear natural entity that it is.