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My walk home, expressed as a completely unstructured stanza of bad poetry

Cold death clad in the most innocent of colors
Its eerie glow illuminating the frigid night
Frozen air trailing through open nostrils
Fingers numb, fumbling for my keys

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 29th, 2006 at 2:40 am and is filed under Daily Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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  1. You will post the following soon.
    Go ahead and start typing.