Fancies gleaned from being a voyeur into cemetery ground where no family lies. Yes, I am a superstitious soul. I even burn Injun money incense. I apologise for nothing.
I feel the warmth sucked from my hands
as cold fills up the marrow of my bones
old scars burn like frost-tipped fires
still the chill might sooth the throat
where ripping winds play at tearing skin[…]Winter-Sun — The Sperg Box