1096.

Every day its
own backwards kind of Christmas,
left out, sans belief.

1095.

A lesson in how
to dress up disuse for
a season's party.

1094.

A continual
game of masochism for
heart's slow beginner.

1093.

So the shovels can
only dig within until
the soul is unearthed.

1092.

Voracious without
direction. A broken love's
compass, pointing in.

1091.

Until nothing can
grow past the reach of hungry
heart's hibernation.

1090.

Where fall and winter
coat both ground and mind in a
willful surrender.