it’s that time of year
where the only dopamine is from the bright decorative lights after the sun sets at 4
and that of the morning sun hitting the frost just so
as i shiver in my own home
[no matter what the heat is set to]
and i can’t help but wish for the brighter days/the warmer ways
that summer months send us
and annoy us
and i would much rather be complaining of too much heat
than even a little bit of cold —
my muscles tighten up in winter,
my whole body stops moving smoothly,
and i can’t can’t cannot get happy
no matter what i do
[i can’t even get into
writing poetry in
the morningtime]
[but at least it gets better from here on out, right?]
kipventures 