All Falling Cold Hell

Anticipation led to hesitation; perception of spring led to disappointment by appointment amongst other things.

 

Labels led to let down, frowns on pale faces.

 

Snowflake to fertile ground, like seminal traces in hot fleshy places.

 

Bumbling to blunder the tragic funster.

Sauntering as he perused through town.

At times, head down.

 

Walking the evident precipitation, precipitous, no elation-bitter nation.

 

No one laughed.

 

Investigate the fleeting suspect clouds.

Tacitly, at times, implying:  Go back to where you cannot be found.

 

Cursing them, at times, aloud, losing one’s mind, becoming unsound.

Stuck in: culture, climate, and the daily rounds.

 

Ultimately and absolutely let down; however, proud of the weather that fell about the ground.

 

***

 

I almost had a brain aneurism when I saw the heart-attack snow in bright white mounds.

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