Untitled (but strange)

It's cold outside
They say it's warm inside,
but I am cold.
My fingers are numbing
and so are my toes.
They tell me I'm sick
but I don't listen.
I sit alone,
on a white chair,
in a black room,
waiting for the cold to engulf me.
Waiting for it to suck me in
and make me invisible.
I wait and I wait,
I fall asleep
and I never wake up.

9/28/1989