Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one breath,
One breath, holding all the air,  
Away from me,
Turning me blue.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one taste,
One taste, holding all the flavour,  
Away from me,
Turning me stale.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one ray,
One ray, holding all the light,
Away from me,
Turning me dark.
Every day of my life is passing by.
Every day, short of one tomorrow,
One tomorrow, holding all the rest.  
Every day of my life is holding one tomorrow.

When memory is wrong.
When morality is dusty.
When time is long.
When hope is rusty.
When dignity is pliable.
When dreams are after dark.
When faith is liable.
When life is full of marc.
Old.

Erasing my days.
My minutes,
My seconds,
My hours,
Erased.
Then,
Recycling my new, empty days.

Picture, picture, picture,
Vision, vision, one,
Two, three, hundred,
Chasing me with a gun.
Visions, hundreds, chasing,
My mind is a Zoetrope.
I'm losing my mind, is losing me,
No mind, a kaleidoscope.

One tile, Square and white,
Repetitive, blank and slight.
Reflecting me, not right quite.
One tile, cemented tight,
Surrounding tiles, left and right,
Reflecting me, just in spite.
One tile, by the bight,
Early morning, late, late night,
Reflecting back, a sore, sore sight.
One tile.
Square and white.

Wall one for my pictures.
Wall two for my words.
Wall three for my structure.
Wall four for my hoards.
Wall one for my times.
Wall two for my space.
Wall three for my dimes.
Wall four for my pace.
Wall one is falling.
Wall two coming loose.
Wall three is squalling.
Wall four for my noose.

Inside out,

Soft and pink,

Raw and clawed.

Inside out,

Skinned and scratched,

Scarred and flawed.