hiverious

The darkness surrounds me in the wake of a setting sun. The cold winter’s night ushered in. The still and crisp chilled air hangs around my neck like a noose.
The cold cuts through me spills out my emotions they come pouring out and like a river, flows before me.
The wound heals and wraps around.
Scar tissue eclipses.
…A numbing sensation.
As alone as ever in this cardboard cut out, see through, plastic shell, a cell.

I see myself before me.
Cold dead eyes stare back.
The dead skin flakes off, like the emotions I lack.

What once was organic is now turned to stone.
Within this new face I find a place to call my own.

Crisp lines are now blurry.
They fade into the abstract.
The world outside seems so far away.
It’s hidden by this cataract.

I’m becoming progressively blinded, sheltered from any stimulus. My definition of existence now comes into question.
Is there warmth outside this window, or is it grey like it is here?
In the streets will the children play, or is the world too full of fear?
And what about my enemies? Did they all just disappear?

Is it so hard to smile when it feels like you are all there is? I want to take a step outside this cell. I want to put my mind at rest. I know there is something on the outside. I remember how it was, but what’s to say that nothing’s changed in the time I’ve spent in here, all alone, the atrophy of my identity. The world gets smaller every day.