The fatigue is surprising
It lays upon me like a large rat, who breathes into my mouth
and slowly strokes its whiskers down my face,
heavy, slow, a weight pressing on my chest
and bending my ribcage down into the ground.
Soon I shall be tottering about like an old man,
bent, hunched, with glazed and smoky eyes
and sticks for arms and feet, like a caricature of age,
I will move about, like a bundle of bones.
When the rat's pounds grow too heavy as it
breathes into my flesh, corrupting my life-blood and my breath,
I will simply collapse, watching, as if outside myself,
the skin unstitch itself and crumble,
the bones fall with a clatter like a xylophone,
the eyes fall out like marbles and roll upon the floor.