I can't breathe.

This vacuous hole
starved for oxygen
the scavenger of the stars
who found solace
who took up residence
at the center of my chest
sinking its barbed claws
into the warm, moist
flesh pressed against
my ribcage.

His yawning roar reverberates
off the walls of the prison of ribs
screams pregnant with
vitriolic shrapnel to
cut through bone
and vaporize to dust
my hijacked heart
pumping out thick
poison to necrotize
every living cell
who respires to
bring life to my
corporeal form.

How could I have hated
that vessel
who carried me and
nestled my vulnerable
essence in its walls
and surrendered to my will
to be the vehicle of
my humanity?

How could I not worship
the body who
bent itself to my will
and endured the torture
the wild ride to hell
tempting fate?

Now my body is not my own
and the black hole
consumes every piece
making up my
disjointed mosaic
taking my features one by one
until all that remains is a face
that he's sanded to
blank flesh.

Now I am in ruins
and my frescos are
bowing to the regal
procession of time.