This circle is closing in.
Breathing in and out with my lungs
But creeping ever closer to me.
Nothing but eyes with teeth.
Seeking the taste of my wings
Not teething but hungry to see.
Some wisps of self disappear
Melting at the fringes of sense
A nonsense trail of fragments
Feeding into the endless chasm.
Fracturing this tattered form
Tearing at fettered limbs
At clipped words
At tense movements
At half-formed thoughts
This whole essence that one was I
Just spooling out and corroded.
By the relentless pulsing
The never-ending loss of substance