I want to be dead,
Consumed by despair,
I glare into the night sky,
As blood-snow falls onto my bear flesh,
My garments not suiting for a harsh winter,
Yet through the bitter cold and frigid atmosphere,
My insides are torrid,
They cringe and twitch.
My pain is engulfing me,
Twisting my blood,
It ever disintegrates me...
And I hate you.
I have yet to kill you.
I scream,
As the skin begins to peel from your body.
I have already died,
Tears well in my eyes,
Freezing in the chill,
A translucent red,
That will run from you like a downpour of ugly rain.
I will be bitter again.
Take your body and pluck it apart,
Piece by piece.
I am the ravager.
Entities wash over me,
Static rumbles in the distance and resonates before my eyes,
Echoing in yours as they expire.
So, I wash in the frozen blood,
You watch in agony,
Unable to speak...
I have ripped out your tongue.
Stop your stifled mewling.
You haven't been finished.
And I will finish you.
Because you never left me alone.
Then you avoided me...
...And you destroyed me...
When the blood-snow fell,
I chimed like ice,
The beautiful trees had turned dead.
Dance in every droplet,
The eve is growing old.
I don't care,
In the morning we will both burn.
Blood has always been cold.
Hold on.
Held on.
My flesh is still beneath your fingernails.
Your blood will be on my lips.
Your grip does finally recede,
Whilst quietus throttles your bawling,
No more music.
You have died.
I do at the corpse,
And I turn to dust.
No longer entangled in an icy grip.