Suspended Animation

The globule lays suspended—cold and cuddled,

The cranium cries out in an orchestrated mumble.

Like freezing drafts wafting through time,

All thoughts go down, akin to dead bodies flowing in the Rhine.

The hands of time seal my fate,

Incensed—my life-stream inundates in itself,

A sense of death, morbidity and ending,

For the clockworks play hopscotch, with demon in tow.

As the receptors flow, ebb and lash,

The feet tremble, in a gyre of emotions,

Churned like a grinding stone,

Extracting all pulchritude and gaiety.

The life-stream yearns for emancipation,

A seeping-through of phoenix-feathers.

Hail the mighty Lord up above and yonder,

For I see the embers.