Of ironing at the snow.

The sweet irony weighs bitter on my mind.
Time progresses impeding resolve.
Your gestures seem too kind;
Thoughts turn gray as they dissolve.

A mental leisure passes by unknown,
And you always define its existence.
Voices inside begin to drone,
But actions speak of resistance.

Words remain just words,
Yet constantly re-establish meaning.
All thoughts have become absurd.
A perfect fiction lives in dreaming.

Despite the fact; a sublime participation.
This lucid reality perceived the same.
Desires met in your fake consideration.
Awakening leaves emotions maimed.