The sand sized ice particles slash and cut my face.
All I see is a rapid cloud of white, blurring my vision.
It all seems so bright, yet too dark.
It is so cold and so sharp, my skin can’t stand it.
If I were able to take a glance at my arms, legs, or even face--
It would be an icy mass of blood,
Coming to the surface, then freezing

The wind seems to be speaking--
Each touch and graze is a different person.
Too much whispering is going on at once,
I try, but can’t understand.

I can’t move any more--
My body and organs, stiff and solidified.
My blood, no longer warm and piercing--
But frozen and motionless.
I lay there, in the deep, cold mush,
I feel nothing--
Not a pinch on my cheek
Nor a slice on my thigh.

My body is dead, but my mind continues.
I think of dreams beyond this world.
My mind is like a street during rush hour--
There is so much commotion, so much going on.
Things are packed full and moving almost like a wave.
Yet now things are stopped… clogged almost.
So many future happenings are frozen in time, waiting for their turn.

Now, it may not be like a street, though.
Things go black--
Things are disappearing.

Now I may be dead.