Life is cruel and unkind
Boiled over with wasted time
Count the hands of moments lost,
tick by seconds, minutes tossed

Temperature rises and hits the mark
A hundred degrees turns too stark
Bed of sand and heat wave sear
Weigh it down with constant fear

Mercury rises an internal kind
Cuts right through a melted mind
Turn it off, burn the fool
Anger mounts then its cool

The temp of my body is insinc with the earth
The health of my bones is tossed with the rocks turn
The temp of my body is insinc with yours
The heat of the body burns down to my core
The temperature of the temple is increasing rapidly
And the height of the thunder is high and howling
The earth stops to turn
The seas dry to burn
The thunder cries and yearns, to howl at our bodies insinc heated temperatures.

My stiff arms hit the metal of the door as I force it open, against
the chilled fist of wind, pounding hard upon the glass
windows and then equally upon my face and forearms. It had to be
below 50 degrees, but I had hoped that the cold could help me
feel again. Feel something. Unfortunately,
this ice only froze my fingers, leaving
my body as numb as my mind.

Later, as I rid my machine of the cloth concealment, protecting
the scars laced into my skin. The water boils as I
examine my life-lines, these battle scars, in the mirror and
can only cringe in thought of the disappointment drowning
the faces of those I care about most: their eyes
drooping down with the weight of eyebrows, creased
diagonally, half shock and the other half burning
discontentment. They purse their lips and stab my eyes
with their daggers, when I chuckle nervously.

I shake my head of these thoughts from my speculation and
step into the steam, hoping the heat could help me
feel again. However, the fire does not scorch my
body, nor incinerate the emptiness, it only slides
down the marble sculpture my body feels to be
(equivalent to the concrete barrier that builds behind my eyes)

Cold is, a dark winter day.
Cold is, a cup of ice.
Cold is, the house in mid afternoon after a hot summers day.
But, if cold is a temperature..
Why do I feel so cold when she looks through me?

Descriptive words
they make us feel something inside.
Words like "heart pounding"
Can create a feeling of love or fear.
The use of temperature and color can do just the same.
Saying "the warm Sun colored leaves fell onto the sun baked ground"
Will never have the same feeling as "the dull colorless leaves fell onto the cold forgotten ground".

We see so much in words
Things that aren't even there.
Our minds try to fill in blanks with emotions we thing we should feel when we see them.
Our minds create pictures from words.
But the pictures can never be explained with words.

We hang on to words
We do it too much!
we hang on for so long
We forget what they originally ment.
We forget the emotional attachment we had with it.
Whether it's from a lover or friend or enemy.
We cling to words for the wrong reasons!

We can attach to words for power or confidence
We do it for Pease and war
We do it just for hope that someone will feel the same
about one word.
Any word.