If I remove my socks and my shoes,
my gloves, my hat
and lie down upon the snow,
let it curl up around me and fall straight down onto my face,
I can feel the heat of my life wicking out
It's not numbness, not something masking the pain like a drug;
it's just dissipation,
it's just osmosis,
as it spreads out from me into the snow
until my portion is so very little
Oh, snow, always empty,
always room for more--
take from me. Take, take, I give it.
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