Crunches of burnt yellow prickle underneath my bare limbs
The season of death comes easy, fearless, energetic to us,
All of which are dangerous.
Oxygen chilled to the point of taking our breath,
but still teasing us with its invisibility
Lingering, hunting, torturing our minds
The thought of winter oddly burns us
A boiling pit of no escape
A witch's pot in which she makes. us
Us, we, our relentless souls flee the bodies
By us, we, our own selves created because
The scolding touch of sun rays is
serene compared to the sparks we, us, our brains make
Blood more rapid than hot, stormy rivers because
Our breadcrumbs of hearts are racing, rapid, repeated, relentless.
Here you are again, laying here with
6, 60, 600, 6000 pounds of ice on your chest
The flood of frigid yet unfrozen spikes of water slice our skin
Frosted needles tease your heart one pinch at a.
Time it takes to gather your thoughts in the
Time it takes your bones to shatter
Because of the time it takes for
Time to stop.
Share This Poem