Me, I . A glacier. Imagine
Large, solid, creaking, destroying, nourishing
Glowing black/blue. Blinding
Slowly, drifting down a street
No ice cold stare is colder than me
And I slide, slowly
Down the street.
Some things happen. Expected by now
Like the chaffing, splits
The melted aftermath is unexpected
The amount at least
All the while, white flutters drops on me.
But ssssssss llllllll iii pp. Cold.
This me glides through streets.
Impossible to destroy immediately at least. Never at most
Glacier as the mind
Glacier as body
Glacier as spirit
Glacier as I
* cold is sometimes a state of West London mind.