Cold

I am cold
blood stops
breathing gone
vision blurring
mind wanders
past the mundane
focusing on
the smell of fresh
baked bread
and flowers
sunlight dims
eyes turn glass
smells disappear
I can hear them
weeping
I can hear someone
talking
I can hear the sounds
of electronics fading
in the room
I am cold
I am dead
and there's nothing
left for me

(c) Guy Tetro 2003