This foot square, this unholy heathenish latticed slab,
upon which rests so much and so little
contains my heart within its grain, and it
will not give it back.
There is a deadline on life, and mine
is fast approaching, heralded by letters and
the madness of another. What is wrong, dear?
You break me down,
you know you break me down.
I wait to leave, but this atomic delay
this half-life captured within