fingers,
twisted as
the aimless
souls on
these streets.
frost bitten
with winter's
duty and

this job,

nothing always
changes.

for them
as for me
the days
unwind and
unravel,
disappearing
and to what
end?

in wonderment
of supposed
purpose
the answers
clatter about
in my skull.
inscrutable

insomniac

phantoms.

and all
i covet
is sleep.