I feel so cold

It consumes me, pushing me towards the brink of death.

But it’s worse than you think

Even though I’m cold, I’m not freezing to death

Not exactly…

Freezing to death is when 

Your extremities, fingers and toes

The edges of your being

Become numb first

Where the parts you don’t really need

Are sacrificed for self-preservation

Before death permeates your body

And slowly floods through you.

No, this is a much more hopeless way of dying

Where the cold originates at the heart,

Piercing through the center, the core

Deep down, I have been dead this whole time.

As my extremities, my machinery, continue 

To move under the guise of vitality

My silhouette outlining the echoes of dreams

That have long since lost their shape

This “living”, this puppetry,

My body orchestrated to function by a soulless algorithm

With movements as 

Dull and rhythmic and steady as the beating of my heart

Like a metronome guiding a silent and eternal fugue

Keeping time until the cold

This pervasive, chilling, nothingness

Apathy

Wishing it could be as inconsequential as mere fear

Emanates from the chest cavity

Spreading through my empty husk

Eating at me from the inside out

Finally rendering my limbs frozen

Static

Dead