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

Of freedom

Of hope

Of self.