The synapses are singed,
dead dendrites
no longer
come to life
with the chemical fire
of neurotransmitters.

Blood flow is
restricted
like it has been classified
by the FBI,
not even tiny particulates
can get through it,
all that is left
are clogged arteries
and a delicious
cheeseburger death.

The rich interwoven tapestry
that use to be me,
the strange tributaries
of plasma,
the slick switch board
that birthed
consciousness,
full bodied sensations
intertwined
with my complicated mind
making me
the cosmic being
that I am;

has slipped the restraints,
this thing lost its name
and now is labeled
Mr. Nobody,
the disconnected
butchered body
of broken flesh,
the rotting mess.

Call in the Doctor
causes the nurses all left.
Then from some
dark corner
bereft of breath
a shade stealing figure
mister death
comes to collect the debt
of life.