By a Thread

By:  The Vampire Sweets

The Clock seems to be alive
taking steps toward me
tick after slow ominous tick.
Time approaches without my
consent and lays its heavy
hand on my head.  I have
been separated from a
sensual life.  
That simple and frightening fact
escapes me
as I wither for an hour
or so each day.
A dry, dormant shell
is all that is left of me.
An incurable
hunger, and insatiable 
this is all I have left
and it chews me apart.