I HATE BEING SICK.

LIKE SERIOUSLY.

Hypothermia

The arctic air gives you a third lizard lid;

with frozen frosting on silken skin

you drag limp limbs from cracks in the ice.

Thin mountain oxygen fights to freeze your blood,

and holds shallow breaths captivein the cavity that was once your chest.

Reality strikes at the most inopportune times.
The greedy frost bites at your extremitiesand makes each movement into a battleand each breath a note in Certain Death's Symphony

Welcome to Reality, darling.