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Denial In Its Truest Form.

Updated on March 15, 2011

Denial At It's Truest Form.




I sit in the bay window,
fireplace crackling
just to the left of me.

Sun beams playing

across my face,
on a rare, bright

cloudless day.

Warming my pale flesh
on a tropical beach towel,
in my bathing suit,
like some mannequin
advertising Speedos.
Outside the snow

is piled high,
much like white sand,
it too refracts trillions
of diamond like specks.

But its cold is
innocuous to me,
in my cozy glass

paned paradise.

I lather on

some Copper-tone,
and bask in

the December sun,
What winter??


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