Bare skin, bruised by winter's breath, A car rusted, like forgotten youth. The bottle dangles—silent salvation, As green light flickers behind glassy eyes. The world smears, thick as paint, A canvas of half-truths and chemical dreams. Outside, snow falls softly— A kindness he can't bring himself to feel. He exhales. Smoke curls toward a sky that does not care. And the silence grins, Sharp as the edge of a broken mirror.