On The Coldest Of Florida Winters
The Bed Of Nails I Was Strapped To, The One I Was Almost Free Of
Sunk Back Into My Skin.

It Was The Consequence Of Trust And Hope In A Miracle, A Resurrection.
Once You're Dead, You're Dead.
I Don't Know Why I Thought I Could Come Back To Life.

So I Will Continue To Write What It Is Like To Be Dead As I Will Never Again Know What It Is To Live