This decadent flesh bares wrath for owner,
Like the wildest windblown debris it shakes.
Taking all my will to cease the dread quakes;
In rage manifest, afraid, the loner.
Rebellious it lies in bed, a stranger,
Dying day to day, silently it rakes;
Crying at night, illusions down it breaks,
Plotting mutiny against his master.
Seeking to overtake my supreme will,
Cannibalizing itself in weakness.
But I fear I am no consolation.
From my feeble body in it’s sleekness,
I give apology to myself still:
My disintegration lamentation.
