The end, a lonely flight to my demise
because the closing hour haunts my own
mortality. Through this journey I will
walk in pain, breathe decay, live in death, until
I brush away the crumbs of happy dreams.
When darkness throws me in the black abyss,
the light that once sustained me fades away.
The end arrives, an asthma attack at three,
my breaths fragment, and my chest struggles against
the crushing weight. Will I reach the inhaler in time?
But the constant anguish confirms I still exist.
I search through the haze of the brutal grip, my fingers
graze the cylinder and seize, the terror subsides.
My watch reads five past three; the end dissipates.