uninspired on the shores of spot pond

whispering winds tell me a story
but i don't listen because they're
mindless and numb to my heart

they're foolish, fat and callous
to the sun, as her rays embrace
me and my best smile

whispering winds tell me a story
and I still hate them. i despise
soft words where truth is invisible

i hate cool when the heat is real
and moonlight still hours away
oh how i hate

whispering winds tell me a story
and I spit in my own face
because i would rather shout nonsense

than believe the wretched hiss
whir, funk of that clear blue nothing
so beloved by poets

whispering winds... die
and leave me to dance
on glassy ponds in silence.