Burial in the sea of white snow
Alone with my lingering thoughts
Droning machines hum me to sleep
I lie down on the wooden planks.
Distant transmissions are the strand of life
I've memorized all the words by now
It's a month between episodes
I'm falling asleep too quickly.
My morbid companions are sleeping.
I'm tired of writing this filthy journal.
I'm taking another pungent drink
this desperate bottle will not last much longer
The thaw will never come this far out.
The notion of escape, only a matter of will
We grudge our routine and count
downward, always downward to the last.