The rope tore against my skin

like tiny hooks dug into my flesh,

peeling back revealing yellowed paper bone,

Blown to dust by the winds rising from below,

Spinal nerves ruptured by rusted steel,

left to color the water with the inner thoughts of my skull,

The fluid fell into porous scum of the decrepit cave,

Drained and left to rot, Scarcely gasping for air,

I lay on my back and dissolve into the stagnant water,

Watching from this hole, light fades to bluish dusk,

an absence of life, only the rocks crawl down the sides,

And the moss filled my lungs,

Decomposed by the invisible tendrils of time,

I turned to lichen, and became the bottom,

My eyes were torn from sockets long ago,

and my heart strewn across the barren fields of labor,

The only blood that flows, becomes the ink of these walls,

bubbling the paper, and seeping through the back,

staining my hands pressed against the underside,

The metallic odor fills my nostrils,

wafting through the remnants of ruined Rome,

awaken primal lust for mortal sustenance of Pluto,

Worn from the stones, my teeth litter the ocean floor,

Sticking in my feet and binding with the bone,

I cannot move save my fingers,

who only grasp quills and parchment, writing,

Waiting for the day when they find my bones,

Curled up and crushed into dust,

in the corner of this circular room,

Lights dismiss it all to the Earth's mysterious disappearance,

I am cursed never to escape prison,

trapped forever by Death's pendulum,

Wheat fell by my own hand, some seeds never sewn,

Pecked by cursed crows, wandering a never ending path in the sky,

always where they were,

I can't stop falling down this well