Portrait of Now

I'm in a bad frame,
but I want to change
the photo.

Rain against the windows,
cold drizzle against the skin.
Grey light, and a craving for
death.

Everything is cold now,
even with the
heat blasting.

I think Hell must
be a freezing place,
cold and lonely.
At least fire would
turn me to ash.

Floating away
on a
blazing gust
of storm.