Anatomy of Decay

The brain has mines taking the neurons place, my head has death taking the once black hair's place, my mind has jazz cymbals perforating the space between my ears.

My neck is filled with nodes strangulating me, my chest is a festering putrid place where my bronchi and lungs where replace by webs and the heart is no longer, my stomach is permanently on fire burning every emotion to ash, my womb is boiling with stillborn creations.

My arms are now similar to ropes that hold nothing, my hands are melted butterflies that won't fly anymore, my fingers just the bones that once held the tips of the angel's wings.

My legs are walking sticks of the oldest man on Earth, my feet are made of coal and their toes no longer touch the ground.