This palpable air is an organism.
Each movement penetrates its wraith-like flesh.
Each step is a dagger into its still breast.
It weeps and bleeds. Beaten daily,
It is wont to anguish.
Weeping hourly, slowly it shall perish.
Each minute chimes its piercing toll.
Soft and dreary shall each minute roll.
From these whetted hooks shall it hang.
And from your hands shall come the pangs.
Wet and weary, cold and heavy shalt thou wake
To find the dripping body that thou did forsake.