08.16.12 frigid

I was caught unaware, becoming bewildered I succumbed to weakness. It was chilly here, on top of this mountain. I felt as if I had become submerged in a vat of water so frigid that it seemed it should be a solid ice rather than its violent liquid form.
I gasped.
And slid backwards.
Maybe I'll find my home among broken bones and tumbling avalanches.

Froth boiled over my eyes in chunks of ivory powdered bliss.
Come come, I beckoned.
Chill bruised black formed around my lips, cracking them. Pain, how I have known you well. Drip down my mouth in pools of warmth. Topple down with me against a hazy indigo background.

A tear.
Ah, how sweet, the stars have decided to be my funeral procession.
Strange. Odd. Unfamiliar.
These are my last working thoughts. Death isn't as romantic as I thought it'd be.