there is a song sung,
about how time keeps going by.
streams to valhalla.
night fright
cold wrapped as a scarf
or a noose around my neck.
hold tight brittle night.
beat root
in the trickling pipes
life flowing like a river.
red as a beetroot.
end of times
water is oily.
thicker than the blood of men.
winding down like clocks.
uncommon sense
the hairless hamster
praying at profit’s altar.
addicted to cents.
winter’s blade
winter fell quickly
as if kicked from the heavens.
man’s cold punishment.