The Cold

The cold. I feel like it's holding me down and punching me. My ears are the first to bruise. To show it. Then the nose. I almost want to leave gaps in the clothes, at the neck, at the hands, just to see what damage it could do, and how quickly. It is clearly devastating and ferocious as it simply attacks me. Any skin showing will regret its appearance. I can appreciate the total beauty of something so clinical and precise, something so brutal and haunting. The cold, in all its warmth, squeezing the life out of me, leaving me battered. It is stunning to behold such a state, the streets still holding the snow from days gone by, the world looking frozen, or Wonderland, at least. The people from head to toe almost covered in clothes. Winter. It hits hard here, it sounds like a gospel choir, uplifting, soulful, glorious. Welcome to the world of Wonderland, even winter is majestic here. Even the frozen soul sings loudly.