Persisting more than living. I say, "these are my last hours", minutes drip and splash and drip.. Dizzy or lost? I feel blunted things, like my hands are numb, cut off at the elbow. This must be way to oblivion. Miners work already buried. I know my place. I serve no benefit. I am regrettable, unfortunate, inappropriate. Forever starting again, singing myself songs, keeping my mind busy. Propped up but withering, wrinkling and terrible. Thankfully gone from the lives of every good person who was burdened to know me. Swing a bucket on a rope, you could scoop from my grave fetid memories of days when I acted so poorly, made such horrible choices. Consequences slip like skin from my legs. Caved in, swollen boots. Another day, knocking on pipes.