Hollow legs driving the hollow husk Rays pour like sand into the shrinking musk
Lenses, oily and slick, and glistening Legs, hollow and shaky but still driving
An emptiness fills him up to the eyes It tries to escape but he keeps it dry
Gravel shifts and churns beneath As the sky so blue turns so bleak
He opens his mouth to curse and shout But is too scared of what may tumble out
He blames his maker, creator and now breaker He deconstructs himself, slices he won't savour
His soul slipped out a minute ago Away with the rising mist of his moans
A foulness of mood transpires and follows For the walk home is wrought with sorrow.