I am so cold.
Wind whistles round my rib cage,
frost settles in my veins.
Help me.
My brain is sinking under quicksand
and it is oozing out my nostrils,
my mouth,
my ears.
It hurts.
I silently scream
in crowded rooms,
but nobody notices.
I'm wasted.
My body is rotting,
my untouched skin decaying.
I was happy once.
In photos of years gone by,
old movies watched again and again.
I yearn to wake up seven years old,
the gleam of life in my eyes.
I wake up dead.
Ghosts in my eyes.

I'm losing it.