Hypothermia IIX

Altar of bones, rattling

Northern winds feed off the land 

Strong nordic crows, scattering

festering steam expels from the ground 

Too cold to breathe, necrosis is slow 

barren wasteland 

harshest of currents blow

white eyes and blinded pathways, 

The sun has turned its back to you

and the night sky pollutes 

the dilations within your eyes

This suckling existence has reached its demise

Deep black lake, circling

the void of which there is no return 

pulling you down, unfurling

The dirt is ancient, rooted deep

like cracks in ice 

the fractures seep 

veins exposed to 

Hypothermia 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you draw a vivid picture of it....well done with the stark visuals.
i felt very cold, reading this.

[Wraith.]

What I set out to achieve, thanks for the review.

[A. Amos]

Simply interesting piece of art, truly enjoyed...

[Wraith.]

Nice of you to say. You may enjoy some of my other poems.

[A. Amos]

Sure will do that...