Of snowflakes and serial killers



The beauty of a white world all around,

but I cannot see it beyond my window.

I amĀ entombed by reality,

gestating in the womb of Mother Nature’s swollen belly.

Her raging emotions unsettle me,

her fury becomes my anger.

My sense of peace is replaced by the need to kill.

Thousands of individual victims lay in wait

and my I raise my weapon.

I lose track of how many bodies have been discarded on my property

as my shovel throws more snowflakes to their grave.