Metamorphosis

Let this chilled corpse lie
Still as winter stone,
Snowflakes swirling
Across soft frosts of crisp air;
Wispy pixie crystals dancing on silver wings,
Fluttering,
Settling
Into the depths
Of grooves
Beneath sunken eyes
Before silently melting
Down creased cheeks,
Softly cracked
In sombre repose
Of a death mask.

Worms squirm just below
Paper-thin skin,
Pulsating as ripples,
Devouring decay within,
Excreting obscene bile
To digest and dissolve
Visceral poison
At the core;
A black heart beating
With obsessive needing
And silent weeping
Under nostalgia's smothering blanket.

Thoughts consuming and dreams;
Quivering deeply
Into something new,
Something that's not quite yet...
True,

Morning dew
Just before slipping into splashes
Of puddles on the dark loam mezzanine,
Or transcending,
Volatile vapor and mist,
A ghost,
The final remnants of dawn,
Spirited away by the morn,
Diffusing into invisible wavelengths of light,
Waiting patiently for fresh night
To be cast across the forest floor
In the form of shimmering silver.

Shivering in preamble,
A soliloquy of rebirth,
Changing,
Rearranging
Deep inside,
Twisting,
Altering,
Afflicting the mind

"To be or not to be,"
The age old philosophy,
To open fresh eyes
And learn how to fly,
To rise on a brand new
Pair of wings

Or to remember how to crawl
And descend below it all,
Fighting tooth and nail
To have what you want,
Too low to ever fall
Too small to ever fail

Will I coil before slithering away,
Like some snake in the grass,
Or perhaps perch proudly on a pedestal of pedantic personal praise...
Just waiting for life to kick my ass?

Time will reveal the man,
Soon to be soon new,
When this itchy, suffocating cocoon
Finally splits suspensefully at the seams,
Possibly presenting a whole new me,
As piece by painful piece peels away
Exposing new eyes and skin to a bright new day.