It is 32 Degrees

But I don't feel the frigid air attempting to consume me

In fact I don't feel anything at all externally

I know that my fingers are turning blue

And the hairs on my translucent skin are perking up to prove

I should get inside but I am stuck where I am…I am mesmerized

 

It is 32 Degrees

And I hear my stomach thunder

I know I should get something warm inside of me

But sometimes I can't work up the energy to get myself to eat

Because the minute that I do

I will exist in a trance that I am in

Of not having to deal with anything at all

Because it is 32 Degrees and I can't feel anything but my skin

Beginning to crawl

 

It's 32 Degrees

By now it's freezing but my body and bare feet

Feel nothing but heat

I can now sense the frigid air around me

But I feel un-renewed

My insides are melting into hot bland soup

The kind of soup you eat when your stomach's contents are swirling

Or if you throat is as red as I feel

When it's 32 Degrees and all I feel is heat

 

It's 32 Degrees

And I'm standing among the sleeping trees

Trying to escape the yelling and the terrible screams that haunt me wherever I am asleep

Instead of fighting back, for I'm too weak

I turn around and flee the place

I'd thought I'd always return

 

It's 32 Degrees

There is an anger boiling inside of me

Waiting for just one more ounce of pressure to make me boil over onto the freshly fallen snow

That shines bright just like the bright red that is shining from within me

As a warning sign to the people that I know

 

It's 32 Degrees

I now feel the cold wrap me up leaving me on my knees

They feel weak but not as weak as my voice from all the yelling 

I fall to the ground and let the snow engulf me just like the words and lies do when I am alone

Not in control of what I can do and know and feel

But in control of who I am

And what I let myself believe

It is 32 degrees