winter poem

Scriblings at 4:47

The bed's cold
The bed is always cold.
The bed has always been cold for an eternity.

Winter is cold
Winter is alway's cold
No matter what year, there's always winter.
The bed's cold,
the heating blanket isn't enough

life's cold.
life is unusually cold.
a liquid nitrogen of cold.
Ready to shatter into a million snowflakes.
Snowflakes are underestimated.
the bed's cold.
The are nothing one at a time,
but together they kill.
One snowflake can turn into an avalanche.

The bed's cold, life's cold.
The poor bums outside, fighting snowflakes
one at a time.
Both their life and bed's cold.
The cement is frigid.
Hopelessness is futile, it won't get you warm.
Only liquid fire to fight with,
and unlit cigars, no lights. Just a drop of liquid fire.

One snowflake into an avalanche,
life's cold,
bed's cold,
life's frigid.
Learn to hibernate through winters, or starve.
When things are summery.
Star collecting acorns....
Pessimism is best, your always prepared of winter.

The bed's cold.
The bed was cold, now it's emotionally chilly.
The winter has just started.
It will indulge it's hungry appetite for bum children and emotionally chillybeds.
an ongoing monster

The winter eats you. The winter inside feed's itself.
Late nights and cold beds shouldn't mix,....oil and water.
However hopelessly cold beds make good poetry.
Cold beds make frigid poetry, a winter of words,
and blankets aren't enough.

-Your Buddy