December's Whore

Today's winter sun is a brazen whore,

Taunting hungry, unloved skin, with her burnt sanguine glow

She's the look about her, that she might offer you more

As her distant gaze of longing grows

Aching at the very bones for radiant days

The skies roar with her fervoured fury but

December's sun is a wretched tease

She offers no warmth within her rages,

While she waltzes rubicundity

Leaves starve from her lacking,

Leaning, and giving from their veins

From December's whore find themselves blackened

Above lurid city outlines, lays herself to rest

Every footstep buries her wake's destruction

Sucking up the smoking bellows,

To turn their waste,

To tormented pleas of comfort

Useful only in torture, and madness,

All enraged souls that have been bought,

Bleating with open beaks,

To a mother's guilt of young's starvation

Who might watch their feathers loosen

Become quiet, resigned,

Meek

December's whore, is my maddening mistress

Distressing the heart with slow beats of calm,

She dances her rapture and beauty before me,

But she offers no warmth in her arms

In her embrace

She offers nothing