i have always liked the snow, and i've always linked it with death.  I inhale, the frosty air pushes down my throat and fills my lungs.  Unblinkingly i stare at up at the fullness of the irridescent moon, tracing the crescent shadow with my eyes.  this is time to be alone.  i exhale and relax entierly, every cell in my body, laying in the bed that fell from the skies.   if you calm yourself enough not to shake, and numb your brain, you actualy feel warm.  and alive.  you starre, unblinkingly still, at the snow. this feels like death.  if you ask me this would be the nicest way to die, perfect flecks sifting over my body and glinting in the faint light from the street lamp, creating a growing and fluffy blenket.  don't touch it. don't move.  it's too pristine and beautiful to break.  don't breathe. let it slow. and slow. hear your heart. slowing. let your eyes gently and effortlessly slide down.  blinking the powder from your lashes.  feel the dark and cold seethe through you.. peacefully.  let it end.  don't breathe. don't breathe.