Lacking everything, craving nothing,
death is but a tease under the ice.

My artificial or dying skin is much too small now...
my arms are ripping through the shoulders,
flames breathe onto my back with a dragon's envy,
blue snow digs into my belly with metal cleats.

my toes break apart--
crunchy lettuce snaps so loud at night.
My scalp bites at every follicle--
fire ants feast on itchy flesh.

My legs beg to sprint but pray to get rest.
Vices lock onto each sweaty muscle--
skeleton fingers plucking strings...
lullaby of a maniac.

Sleep giggles eerily behind quivering eyelids;
diagonal thoughts warp my twisting vision--
lacking everything, craving nothing,
death is but a tease under the ice.