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.