Frozen Fingers


Smoke fills a sinned upon room, and I’m just an object placed in it,

 Left to reap my own actions aftermath awaiting, and as I sit, in my own place, as not to bother…

Hair a mess, thoughts of mine scattered across the room like the collage cut-out’s of my artistic spirit that really doesn’t represent or embody my character today…

Deny all I want, I am a battered thinker

An interesting example

For some, a path paver of what I forgot to remember.

That which my own integrity taunts me with each time it can,

…and it does.

I never can catch a moment to innocently

And honestly enjoy it, instead

I catch a case… a case of the ‘oh-well’

A case of unnecessary put forth energy, went wasted in you

And the minutes that you can’t ever get back.

Patiently, my shell of integrity

Now drained of it’s entire worth,


Urges for


But its voice is so soft and insignificant, it just never gets heard.

So I am, as the saying goes, down & out in my hometown city, inside all a mess,

In need of nourishment as I sit here,

So cold, with frozen fingers…

And frozen I am

Frozen soul

Frozen wasteland

Frozen solid

Frozen still

Frozen with no sign of comfort for days, months, maybe years to come

With no piece that I want, no puzzle to complete.

It’s all about personal exploration, and the right of self expression that some find it

Frowned upon to write about this current state of mind,

But it’s just me

No other explanation or reason to be

But my frozen fingers wrapped around a pen

On a night where I made an example of sin.

-J. Lefever

(I was going through a lot of changes during this time. I remember it well. It was a very difficult time of my life.

December 2010)


6 responses to “Frozen Fingers

  1. Pingback: The Waiting Room – A Creative Saturday Poetry Post « Lyrical Anarchy

  2. Pingback: A Saturday Poetry Parade | Lyrical Anarchy

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