Blood-filled icicles
Grow from my neck
Like wet giant fangs
After a kill.

They snap clean
And fall to my feet
Melting into a puddle
Of my lacerated id.

I turn into ether
In this never never land.
Peter Pan's doppelganger
In incandescent form.

Like scattered ashes,
I disperse
Into the atmosphere
Of this cold purgatory.

A reluctant soul.
Hollow hollow girl.