Cold Song

Far, far, far unfit to bear the bitter cold.
Let me, let me, let me freeze again to death.
sir Klaus Nomi

It seems like for almost a week now, the darkness has been engulfing the city as the winter continues to punch down hard with its frosted fists. This not only means that more layers have to be worn, that efforts to roll out of bed are getting harder as my body refuses to want to face the cold, and the day must be carried out despite the blackness, but it also is means that the end is near.

17 days near, in fact.

So, in preparation of the edge, the lists are being written, re-written, and hung. All the while, the ticking is getting louder and louder every hour. I guess this means that the battle has officially begun. The battle against time, against 6,000 words still to be written, and against the convoluted fear of regret.

Tonight.
the troops are heading out.
into the city.
to start the fight.

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