I feel my head slow down

like syrup in a broken vein

thoughts drip through the floor

spelling out my name

I feel it slowly breaking

not loud, just underneath

a quiet kind of violence

with its fingers in my teeth

I feel the hand of god

but it don’t feel divine

it’s cold and made of ash

and it’s crawling up my spine

I feel it killing me

in pieces, not at once

a soft decay of meaning

like a joke without a punch

scratch it out, dig it in

dirty little oxygen

breathe me out, spit me clean

nothing’s ever what it seems

I taste the rust of halos

I chew on broken light

every word’s a parasite

feeding in the night

I feel my head slow down

now it’s barely there

just a buzzing in the walls

and a body full of air