and so shall nails fester coffinsin devoids of blackness
on days like this
two hundred and ten yesterdays to go
on lonely summerdays of my everything
and a selective hourglass is like those days...
of neverending you
a monument of counting seconds
naked pictures of letters
covered in white snow
and it seems to be the one and only
true means of solace
and so shall nails sing songs to me
