I'm having one of those days
Where my thoughts go South
And breathing gets tough
And icicles stick to my
Vocal chords
And the snow is so thick
That my blood striped hand
In front of my face
Disappears.
And eventually
After a while
I need a map
To find my way back
North.
But I'm so far South
That my fingers are too frigid
To make a snowman.
And my mind's too numb
To think South anymore.