Severely stinging chill makes craiving mind to kind of softenor.
But that absence rewakes despair, the texture is just almost prisonor's dark room's fantasy.

Air drought tenses brain's meticulous running about every picturing.
Your fine line is my wrong one.

Death call is sporadicly heard to my mind.

Cloudy phantasm makes being midst winter's regular aspect, I know it, nevertheless it seduces me to drool.

Time limit emerges in its whole image.
Its extent's saved nature makes barren soil's stand out.

That hugeness has no enemy.

Possibilities could be made in it, but that overspreaded view rather makes us shun around touch ground on it.

Winter's dry gift, you are consistently embarrassing propensity which is nasty inescapable association to our mind reality.

North wind blows over my left cheek.

Jan. 2nd.       2022