It's cold.

The ice storm caught up to his feet making them feel parted from the rest of the body. The winter illusion of a deformed figure of a man who was once beautiful and warm.

It rained cats and dogs and everything else. The raindrops freezing in the middle of the raging skies on their way down from heaven, morphing into cold bullets aimed at his emptiness. The snow impersonated the nature of dead molecules and cruised the sky in random manner, blocking a distant horizon, walling out an exit door.

Then the shadow of something dark haloed over his chest, deepening his voice, shortening his breaths. Marathon of the heart rapidly effervescing like a shaken cola. He sought liquid to quench the thirst of a hollow soul, but alas the ice has taken over and his tongue stuck trapped and speechless to a lake that he remembers was once nice and cozy.

He should have moved on when he could, but the crossroads were signless and the destinations were all ambiguous; they still are. He needed a man to grab his hand and show him the right path. He needed a father figure that never showed up.

'If only the wind would take me', he said, 'If only the storm could carry me'.

The darkness lurked into his eyes as his eye lids felt the need for comfort…

He's cold, but he's happy now.

The winter seasoned in and climaxed my desire to breathe
I want to remember the summer, yet I can't wait for the freeze

Posted by Яαgιи Яαvєи on Friday, November 10, 2006 at 11/10/2006 02:28:00 AM | Permalink