SNOW

CHAPTER III

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I'd let my frozen tears down,

Let my snow, paint a chaste renaissance;

Filling every empty corner and branch with,

Ungraceful flowers of uneased effloresce.

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ANNOYING

That noise is annoying. It was and will forever be, I state as I press the button back down, silencing my sunny yellow alarm clock or so I think.

'Okay. That's quite the exaggeration there. You and I both know exactly how much you love it. You can't degrade it.'

Delicate, breezy flurries gently lace themselves over my eyes, like palms cupping my cheeks, the fingers gentle over my eyes.

And the alarm is still ringing, I turn it off. Rarely ever fails to calm me down. The voice is a breeze.

BREATHTAKING.

Ah yeah. The beeping ring of that precious alarm has broken my just as precious sleep.

'I know you wouldn't like it but you'd know anyways even if I keep it to myself so I'll just say it -that's too dramatic for morning' And why in this world you have to run like you're on drugs the first goddamned thing in the morning even after all that fussing last night?

'I do- many times- you, and your brain, are both, too sleepy to recall' I thought YOU WERE- ARE- my brain- 

'just...'

'...what in the world do i do- or will ever do- with you...'

That is a question I can never answer.

Why'd I have to wake up- oh, the alarm. I remark in a tone I'd describe as an euphoric sarcasm, lips curving up in an empty smile. 'Nice one.'

I instantly get up and reach out for the annoying-

'Its not annoying, you just recited its story' 

-noisy thing disrupting my sleep, my eyes shooting open without breaking a sweat, unusual for a person who just woke up. But then again, this is me we're talking about. I can sometimes hear in my sleep.

A resonating shriek stings in my temples. My head seems to throb too much these days. 

'Must be comprehending your stupidity' -And you running like you're on drugs is the reason.

The temple of my head stings, my eyes narrow in response-reducing my vision. My face is clearly scrunched up in discomfort, is what someone would see if they saw me. A weird tingling runs through my forehead that wrinkles more in response, eyebrows joined, creasing the skin between them, revealing the hideous folds and dents of my strange face. A click over the head of the clock sounds, indicating its silence and I switch my 'five year old generation, third hand that was abandoned by the family' phone on to check what day of the week lies today. Blinding. 

The light from the phone is painfully blinding. Thats the time. 5 something something. I couldn't care less, I already know its too early. And there's no point in learning something that you already know, unless it can be made better and is of use in the future.