Escape of days, silence of dark colddecay of hopes, (re)smell the frame -rain and blood sun leaves, black soil,naked lungs in trees growing inwards,root-pulled,exposed veins and opening gate of longsharp fingers. Stitched grin of trotting dogs,huddled silhouettes, breaths muffled behindthe mirrored walls. Clawing at the bricksin mouth shut motion.Flimsy pale lips rustling, pushing letters upwards. Dry sticks make-belief stripped.Rattle of dreams - silence asphyxiationheaded. Soft pillows slink snakebite.The bed is hourly Winter - its death is full of life.