The Blizzard That Birthed Him Poem by Matty See

This is my snowstorm. This is my mind's eye, consumed by its own dying winter.
Written for the same reasons that I won't pray to a savior, that just may or may not even be there.....

My thoughts are a train-car, their process derails and I'm left with just flames and graffiti.
I dust off the chunks of my cranial wreckage.....My message? ? ?
I'd still call you sweetie.

I know that raising you up still is like waking the dead, cause to me you'd always be cold.
But I consider pulling your skeleton out of that closet, for something to hold.
In my burial ground.....
See we could love each other inside of this coffin that, so long, I have built for myself.
I know that two is a mighty tight fit, but its just i refuse to dig myself out.
As though it seems a waste of effort after getting this deep, while I'm sleeping in segments to get through the dreams.
That's why I hang myself with spider's web...To give you a reason to cling to me, guilt free, long after I'm dead.

Know this is my blizzard.....
This is the reason I publicly choke back tears. Still I remain to refuse to whimper alone, cause we all know...that crying's for queers.
So I breathe deep, stretch my lips to a smile and, calmly, I'm waiting to die.
When the air, it lets loose with the smile it produced. Find me searching.
To kiss you goodbye......