Antarctica

Words like glaciers
tower above my silence
with a threatening composure
of immeasurable weight.
My reality is a lifeless lake
brimming with reflections,
clouds of fear and desire,
nothing in it is mine.
I'm a phantom suspended
in the sharp-toothed air,
desperate for color and shape,
unable to articulate
the whirlwind of nightmares
beneath my calm white exterior.
All is snow and silence,
my screams vanish like vapor,
my tears become stones.