the cold air stabs at my hands
numbing my fingers out of existence
turning my blood blue and cold
until the only feeling left is nothing.
the life is sucked from my veins
as if the devil got bored and
wanted to have fun with my body.
the devil is surrounded by heat
and tortures victims with piercing blue
until all we can do is sit by a fire.
a red, orange, brilliant fire
that warms our soul and gives us life.
until we are cold, once again
and yearn for its vibrant warmth
like a drug that wraps around our being
and chokes out our lungs
until we cant live without it.
is that what living is?
existing until we become addicted
to the sufferings of every day life?