on fading mortality. [still you think till you are still]

trapped.
knowing you will die
consumes the now

being stuck in the thick glue
of sadness

unable to pick up your feet

your muscles atrophy
and soon after you can only

scream inside of your mind
where no one can hear you

you can still feel the pain
but can no longer move


your breathing becomes labored
the world turns to black and white

like an old fading television
your reception
becomes scrambled, flickering

your voice is nothing but
a faint scratching

as your organs shut down,
one by one
each leaves your brain more battered

still,
intact
till
the
last
drop

your last breath
is full of rag water
as you are tossed
into
a bucket

filling your lungs
with scalding hot water
like an old overflow tank

still,
you think
till
the
last
thought