08.16.12 frigidI 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.
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.
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.