I feel like hard
plastic
soft
skin
sweet like
cherry drops
cold like
winter
and bitter like
the harsh wind
that blows on 
the days the snow falls. 

I feel.

I feel.
I feel the biting wind on my skin,
and the burn in my legs,
and the strain in my back.
I feel my tired eyes,
and my emptiness.
I feel the darkness,
and the grab of a familiar force.
I feel the suffering,
and then,
all at once,
I feel nothing.