like a surreal painting on glass
breaking in celestial spaces
the warm evolving light freezes and deteriorates

in an ocean of emptiness
materialization creeps
an old world is reborn
where the conveyor runs with no control

frost replaces the leaves on trees
hidden deep within an icy fog
once-flowing rivers at a standstill
buried and never to be seen again

blanketed beside a bonfire; frozen tips exposed
numbness turns to a tingle; tingle turns to warmth
building up the heat with poison and dead skin
cracks beneath my feet sounding muffled from within

the light reconstructs
only to succumb to the conveyor
where freezing is part of nature
and sentience never thaws
Last edited by theWallofYAWN at Mar 22, 2008,
not that anyone else gives a ****, but i put in some more effort and changed a couple stanzas while adding another in order to help give more feeling, among other things.