There is madness in this forest

Lost in a forest
snow caked trees
bundled to the best
of my ability (but not
quite good enough)
every breath crystalized
in frost upon facial hair
rugged and unshaven
eyes dripping apathetic
tears, god damn it's cold
but this is what it takes
to find that perfect madness
to make rambling nonsense
make sense in a coherent
language spoken by poetic
ancients in a frost bitten
tongue which will soon
be lost in the Summer
when good time warmth
melts the witch's skin
though this is not a bad
thing, it just means it's
different, but for now
I can still see my breath
every time I exhale
measuring this as a step
closer to that perfect
madness I seek
hidden somewhere
in this forest