Hoar Frost

Blinding fog in the quog of my brain Hispid patches above the eyelids, over brow Under the nails of each digit Pieces of mire retire until They’re filed down to shape a claw From a nearby distance I feel this rabid release quickly coagulate Can only communicate if I stridulate And it's too cold to proceed Widdled away into a stand still In the virtue of a statue Obscene yet so serene Stagnant tumult Rigid vexation Like a hoar frost Of human vegetation The dread fed Is now embedded And headed Towards an eternity