a wint'ry poem

I hear nothing but my brain creating
White noise to fill the void of sound surrounding me
Perhaps instinct is telling me that everything
Including the ice crystals bombarding me
Creates tiny explosions upon impacting
That vibrate the molecules nearby which carry
Through the air to tiny bones that give me hearing
But now, these vibrations are muffled before they reach me
As the multitude of inundating flakes are being
Absorbed by the snow that blankets the ground around me
So I hear nothing but myself explaining
The reason for the lack of sensation in me

slowing down

It’s weird to write this blog, knowing that I hadn’t planned to make another long blog post, but also knowing that things would probably end up heading that way. So really, I have no idea where this will take me, but I’m strapping myself down.

For example, I was sitting at my laptop writing the past sentence three and a half hours ago, when I heard a game of Clue going on outside my suite, so I joined it, and then ended up watching “Grand Turino”. (Great movie, by the way.) Now, I’m laughing inside at the craziness that goes on in my life, and I’m quite happy with it.