Crumb
I feast my eyes on fleeting sunsets,
pulling out a knife -
to butter the bread of life.
The sharp point glistens -
persisting to prevail -
yet each slice tastes evermore - stale.
On a journey to become -
nowt but a crumb -
its anatomy unravels,
atoms come undone.
Amnesia dances,
and fills the air -
putting me to sleep -
caressing my hair.
My banquet is lost -
in the wind's howl -
I choke on each mouthful -
and my belly still growls.