(the last sitting)

My roots are being lifted. Clawing at

Chatter in the air.

Leave my finger prints into gossip, to

Slice.

Grease marks on pages make the words

Slip.

I am sure I have

Killed every clock that has ever mocked me.

Lights bark to presence, running through

Me, Energy.

Night runs

Still.

Its weight on my limbs,

Cracking piece by piece.

De-fragmenting -

I do come apart as easy as I'm mended.

My head is too heavy to hold,

For my body is shifting.

I suppose they call this living.

Metamorphosis!

From cocoons to butterflies,

Wing asphyxiation -

Stuck under a spider's breath.

There is only the sound

Of my mortal parts

Splattering slowly.

Deeper into the carpet,

I stain beautifully.