The theme is snow.
West of JavaIt’s too warm.
Lazing on the chaise, staring at the ceiling, cooking in my own skin.
My mind’s cooked in my head and I can feel my nerves boiling.
Warm wind blew loose strand of hair into warm sweat.
This must be what Hell feels like.
I want to go home, back to cold north with the snow.
I turn onto my side and stare out of the window.
My mind was already broken, the white flakes falling from the sky were no surprise.
But when I ran to touch them, they didn’t disappear.
Even the snow is warm here.