I’m not sure why I’ve been alone all this time
things started out almost vibrant
but I’m afraid you made me lose my touch
because for the past three years I cannot feel
I am nothing but this decaying carcass

I see love flourish around me
ringing of bells, hums of holidays in the air
I stand alone
and watch flushed cheeks
herbs hung above doorways
scarves wrapped tightly around throats
but all I can feel is
what I cannot feel
the only witness
my breath that hangs in a mist

this is not an illness that haunts me
but instead the undesirable traits of my being
like icicles hanging from rooftops,
I am avoided and knocked to the ground
as shattered reminders of
something that won’t melt
something that needs to drip down the drain
but is instead frozen to the pavement
and kicked aside by somebody
with warmth flowing through
thin veins and
a naïve heart

A frigid night--
the frosty air.
I shiver in the wake..

My fragile, numb fingers
attempt to touch my face.

I'm frozen....

The crisp, biting wind
gusts violently toward me..

I exhale a visible breath
and trudge onward
over the frozen lake.

So very cold,
All of the time.
I can't feel my hands,
But that's normal now.
I feel my bones crack,
As I try to move.
The ceaseless shivering,
Has become normal,
And ineffective.
My pale skin has a sheen of blue,
Marred by the line of red,
From my bleeding nose.
And with 3 pained breaths,
I fall to sleep,
And breath no more.

Slipped into internal madness
Can you hear the mime speak?

Street light flickered fifty times
**** the crickets? chirps no more

Greed and violence seeks all pain
Black butterflies fall to the ground

Brick stained walls swallow me whole
Mercy is the scorned woman sober

Identity mistakes visual sight
Wake up from swollen fist of the ape

Fly through the silver and black wires
Fear gripped reality slapped stupid

Frost
creeping along the window
pane
that trails along with spidery crystal
hands
and blooms on the glass the
same
way she captured my fascination
until
I realized that I was the glass and
she
aimed to smother, to obscure, all other
views.

This wind keeps snapping at our feet
through shoes unravelling.
Gales are hungry.
          Night's abandoned,
               streets have emptied.
Still, we own them--just keep talking.
           Winter's wailing.
           **** the old days.
Clutching coats closed,
                         tread nostalgia
past these sidewalk intersections.
Claimed by rambling conversations,
               often
               we're only
               rehashing
our worst mistakes
                                  and
                 shivering
                our way be-
             -neath stoplights
lit by good memories.

          I've got this notion tonight
          that we'll find our way
                                                  back
         ­ into the warmth found behind
          our locked front doorways.
Ways we've found to always hide
our faces from the cold outside
          have been running dry all night.
So drink down the cold street light
          and we'll make a blur of those green-white street signs.

This cold's still clawing at your face
through scarf unraveling.
Chapped lips smiling.
          Nights like this have
               kept on piling.
Winter owns us. Just keep walking.
           Winter's crying,
           "**** the old days!"
Frostbit footsteps
           slip nostalgia
past these frowning checkpoint questions.
Retouch same old observations.
                Sometimes
                we're only
                 retracing
the same missteps
                                but
                    ­frigid
             friends like us
                are melting
into old habits

          I've got this notion tonight
          that we'll take this route
                                                     for
          one more familiar cold flight
          from here to daybreak.
Say, "let fly those bomb bay doors!"
We've bombed these frozen streets before,
                    and I've got a couple more
          so keep moving 'til we find our front doors.

I cannot think.
I cannot move.
The ice has frozen me
through and through.
And you're not here
And I'm not there...
And how did I think
this would be something I could bear?
Should I just wait?
Hoping that there will come a day
when this all thaws out?
A day that i can feel my toes again,
a day that I can know your soul again?
Everything is cold
So just come home
to me
and bring your summer heat.
Because I'm freezing.
I'm frozen.
And I don't think I can move
without you.

In the heart of the jungle
past the thick and murky swamps,
through the mist and the unending rain
lies a place that will leave you
never the same.

It is a silent place,
quite and tranquil
wisdom radiates
from mossy green gates.

Cool waters babble softly to one another.
Silent meadows bask in the shade.

Golden light cascades
from on high
a mysterious deepness
written in the sky.

The stillness of the wood
written on the faces
of the jungle.

Nothing stirs
nothing moves.
Life is frozen,
paused in a eternal embrace.
Locked in sweet paralysis
drowning in the serenity that surrounds.

In the stillness of the wood
that is where you will find
me.

Liquid nitrogen
Surrounded my warm heart, and
Froze the blood and flesh.