The Moth

Lying awake, breathing damp air,
I feel decay creep up on me,
festering my neglected teeth,
ingrowing my toenails.

Under cover of darkness
the inexorable rot steals in
through every orifice,
jabs invisible pins into my
frightened flesh;

madness tears at the delicate
tissues of my brain.
I can feel every
carcinogen at work,
every disregarded taint in my blood,

and Death flutters close
around my head like a huge moth,
settles inscrutably on my chest,
slowly my breath is crushed away.