Last minutes

The last minutes flow.

Squirm, poor vermin

the life out of you

— germ.

Distile it to its purest form:

when you are to feel it,

it spreads its wings for you,

touches you, warm.

Then consume it

— this delicious custard

then it shall consume you too

Each piece of your tiny few

maladjusted lies

Still, squirm, poor vermin

It feeds on you,

bleeds over through

endless void

hopeless pursue

squirm and squirm and squirm

until you squirm no more.

and then silence…

and then peace…

— nevermore.