Cold

Too much coldwhite, alight,cryogenic crystals lash my soul. You send me songstoo late, too farfrom who I have become. My lips burn:those lips that onlysay goodbye & you wonder whyyou wonder why. I shed my skinin layers each nighthallucinogenic dream I’m living in. Outside the fieldis white with frostcold impersonal; have I becomethe butterflythat clings to what it knows? My shattered heartpupates to stonelike iron ground until its flaw flowsspring water.  (Listen to poem here)