Cramped In a Box
Eyes open to blackness,
cramped in a box,
sounds of shovels reside outside.
As the mist clears in my mind,
pictures
of a pole,
drawing closer
to the grill,
glass ... shatters.
The ground meets me
and happily pulls skin from bone
allowing me to move freely across it,
then all goes black.
I kick and claw at the lid in vane
listening to the dirt piling up,
sealing me in my crypt.
All grows deathly calm,
and I feel my heart convulse in my chest.
And as the air grows thin,
I accept my fate,
gasping and fighting to breathe
my last breath.
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