winters toll.

he kept the door closed to keep out the cold.
cold, cold memories from a cold, cold world.
a cold, cold soul buried in his in thoughts.
his minds own abode, where his own soul rots.
because the people that he sought
were the ones that never listened.
where the answers to his problems were
all that he was missing.
and now he's just missing.
face on a milk carton somewhere in your kitchen.
what is this existence?
is anybody there?
am i that impaired?
so blind i can't see anyone.
you've all disappeared.
it's only me, here.

and you will never notice.
the snow is getting deeper.
this is getting hopeless.
so i'll pack up my bags.
wrap myself up in my rags.
unfolded.
everything i had:
i sold it.
or i never had it.
or it exploded.
or it doesn't matter.
Irrelevant. like me.
he's my only brother.
malevolent as he may be,
i have no other
to turn to.
cold, cold.
like the love letters i wrote you,
i wish that i would burn too.

-Dan.