my skin is cold. the wind has been shredding my face slowly for days, like a cheese grater. so cold that heat stings and bounces off my fingers. i will never be warm again. my blood turns purple, as if attempting to disguise itself. it peeks out through my knuckles and drips from my nose. i may as well be lying naked on a block of dry ice. you can't possibly understand, you and your precious body fat. my skin is only a screen door. and now it won't shut.