Arteries spider and clutch the distant cold. Their trammel unbroken by the kiss of winter’s breath;
Arteries spider and clutch the distant cold. Their trammel unbroken by the kiss of winter’s breath; pallid faced and hung with wire… too indistinct to be recognized from a distance and too frail to endure the warmth of a friendly smile. They hang. They hang like Loose bones waiting to be plucked by gravity’s hand. Low bearing fruit left rotten on the tree now stiff from the cold. Stiff from the ice that bulges and tears out of the very vessels which it once called home. And what of home? Are the homesick homeless nothing more than sick? -- source link