Frosted January

I drag my hands
across
the frosted blades of grass
Tips of frost underneath my nails
So cold
they burn
And I burn with
where am I going?
what am I doing?

Dragging.

Dragging,
dragging,
dragging.

I drag myself
across the lawn

Then I lift myself
Throw my hands
To the sky
I am
weak
I can’t
walk
I just
drag,
drag,
drag
To slow time
To slow down even more
the infinite wait
of dragging
Always in between two places
Two points
Two moments
I can’t seem to dig my hands hard enough
Deep enough
Into the grass and grab it
A handful of grass
and dirt
and life
I can’t seem to grab hold
And so I drag myself

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