The Room Forever Shrinking

When in the room forever shrinking I prop my limbs to bear the walls

A hundred trillion things I think (I—rather—scatter thoughts)

For to spend the last most intense pellet on the object most deserving.

Only faster coming weighing slumping walls upon my cheek

The iron on my pupils black and my limbs not buckled yet

The black hammered weight my shrinking white and grey abiding blights

And fast as that the pellet like a supernova seedling ripping all around inside me

So that destruction will in minced instants be doubly totally assured—

But the lovely breath expended as one whose body others taste and drink,

Whose body the universe in burning crucible transmutes

And stars and heavens, cold-chilling ocean deeps and breath-warm dirt

Are conglomerations of the atoms of the constant thoughts I had

For one to spend the furious pellet deservedly on.