I am my own funeral

Sickly sweet 

maggot meat 

Breathing underground

In the thick of it 

These walls are graves

Now I scale the miles like a slave in chains

On my way to the slaughterhouse

With the ants I glitch through the dirt, slowly

Claustrophobic, inhaling the earth so lonely

motion stills but the sky sped up churns somewhere above me

alternates between shepherds delight

and bleak grey to a collage of silver wires