Slowly

Slowly
The lungs expire
The wheels sublime

As the weeping sun
Sets behind the
Layer mask
And granular buttons
Settle from their
Deathly perches

Slowly
Your face becomes
An indentured lung
Destined to serve
Eternity
To a grim master

Something crawls
From the organic soup
At the lake bottom
With a croaked message
For none to hear
"Stump phase"
And all is well

Slowly
The sun becomes
A rotten lifeboat