Slush grey like nicotine
tinged tongues, fingertips, lungs.
Cigarettes, loaded guns.
Snow falls around like ash.
Black ice precursor to a car crash.
Winter gets so fucking dark.
Contrast to the white stark
Skyline, a byline to spring time.
Ticking time, temperate crime.
Colorless room, hospital bed.
Tinged with memories of the living dead.
Oxygen, morphine, machine blips.
Lost secrets gone behind motionless lips.
Dull eyes matching bleak skies.
Never really been good at goodbyes.
Going back to Chinese food and *Kokomo*.
Never imagined a time you'd have to go.
A thousand miles just to be told “don't cry.”
The road, like your life, seemed to fly right by.
Cold remarks and told to say our piece.
Death rattle, final battle, hope you rest in peace.