white,
the color of my deceit.
so pure that it could be mistaken
for truth, yes.
and most of the time.
it's the blanket of my wonderland,
covered in sharp-edged snow flakes
and i love the taste of my cold blood
when i try to catch them with my slithering tongue.
phenomenal.

of snow and hail, i resemble.
eyes, dried out into nothing, empty
pebbles staring into oblivion.
though my mind is a blizzard
of shivering equations, explanations,
regressions.

i want nothing, my soul is bare,
snow white because black is beyond holy.
i cloud your visions, yes, frost your reasons.
but you couldn't stay away.
i am the fourth season, cyclic.

the arctic phoenix, i will succumb,
deaths and tragedies i will leave behind.
but you will long for me.
with apocryphal tears, i will leave you.
 

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