Of the five senses, touch was the first to go When the rot set in. Necrotic from disinterest; disused and numb, A disconnected *****, a colony of one. . Then sound; your messages left unheard. Just the tap tap tap of some manic mind. No pause...just repeat; the eternal rewind. Sleep starved, all words stick frozen in time. . For leading me into temptation; my gluttonous sins, Taste and smell succumbed, then withered and died. Staunch as a deacon, control finally mine. The harvest ignored, bloated on the vine. . Only sight eludes my metal fatigue. The mirror much stronger, it haunts and it taunts. Its warped funhouse images all I can see. The bully I made...this cruel double of me.