California's Winter

Looking out of the same window,

Dust in the corners, still.

A paralyzed sand.

Awaiting for our blow.

We don't. Only leave it slightly open,

As if I were outside.

Well, would you look at that!?

What a surprise!

The same bodies forgiving the snow-covered street,

Yet, the sun still manages to accommodate summer light.

Warm and convincing rays...

Nothing is alright.

Tried to fly...

But we all know how this will end.

Persuassive winter demon.

Clues of nostalgia,

Personalized tyranny... just for me.

Swallowing these grape waters.

As to illuminate and shake off the disgust.

You say we have the sadness of a the upcoming, blue days;

The cold resembles trapped images of my lining story,

But it is not that.

Just another excuse to fall down into our smiling coffin.

I force this spit, estranged in my throat, to transform it... into a substitute soul.

Don't want to awknolege any of your deformed sides.

Already dreading my own, love.

Can't charge out of the disfigured gifts life has brought,

Concede me this, though;

A guide you'll be to me...

And if we shall not win the battle of autumn,

Then we ought to become warriors only when the story telling begins,

Decorate it with bronze,

And let them believe that it really is gold.

Because I can't keep on.