holiday (thank fuck)

Frigid wind passing through
overlapping layers of damp laundry.
Fake curtains for a temporary room.
God bless these rainy mountains,
I don't mind if I'm buried here.

Sighs won't stop this bed from getting colder.
Stares won't hide those dust coated books.
Worries won't finish these never started tasks.
And all we ask for is more sleep,
and more strength to stay awake.
Maybe a bit more time to waste?
If death sneaks in between thunder and lightning,
would it be for the worst or the best?

God bless these rainy mountains,
I really don't mind if I'm buried here.