cold

sucumbo al frío.

shards of life,
cursed and beloved shards of life
pierce me.

My very soul is aching with deception
don't know what to do
do know what to do
can't bring myself to...
could I make anyone at all understand?

need,
need,
like the clone of that man in Mr Murder...
need to get a life,
to work stuff out,
to accept.

But I can't fucking do any of it.

This cold is shattering my determination;
my already weakened will is almost nonexistent now,
humiliated, instead of humbled,
for there is too much pride to accept.

No one can be right.

It's just not possible.
I have to be right every time,
for I am alone... perhaps more than ever now,
because I am in dire need for direction
for something to hold on to
for someone to hold me in place when I'm slipping
slipping
slipping away,
like now,
from reality
from duty
from everything and everyone

and this fucking cold wont leave me alone.

I just look into the eyes of people
so warm
so soft
so far away from me

I'm scared.
I sometimes think I may never find the way
cannot work
cannot think

this cold!
awful...
cold glance
cold demeanor
cold words...

need some heat

will die.

feel pain, and choose to suffer...
the other option is to cause pain
can't stand the pain...

why is this chillness suddenly filling me?
why can't this neverending winter nights be pierced by sunshine?
why,
oh, why do I have to be able to think all this?

I know what I feel
but I don't know what lies behind it all...
what is it? what has made me this void?
maybe I put this on myself
or maybe I'm being weak where I should be strong.

the words can't be uttered by my mouth:
my voice has been taken by the cold.
my thoughts can't be translated into actions:
my will has been taken by the cold.
my feelings can't be translated into facts:
my certainty has been taken by the cold.
my guesses are never right anymore:
my reasoning has been taken by the cold.

I want to lie down and die quietly,
I'm scared to death and don't know why
I lack it all but the energy to keep me muttering
why I hate this all
but then I don't hate any of it:
I am a lover.

I love live, and sunshine and flowers,
and warmth and water and trees and animals
and people I don't understand and lose my temper with
I love it all

when it is alive.

But this cursed winter cold
has killed it all within me
and all I see
is dead
destroyed
frozen solid
by this damn cold.