THE ROOM

in my palm,

soul spinning,

envelops the frozen body,

restless.

red butterfly travelling,

in the midst of melting snow,

dying, crashing.

tightness grave,

blood writhing cornucopia,

does anyone care?

life full of twists,

age is a game of time,

walk until dusk looming on the eyelids,

and the end you seek save you from sin.