Everyday my life shrinks.
Or: my life shrinks.
Each living generation condenses.
Folds unto itself. Into oblivion; into puny and irretrievable gestures of its former self.
Each day becomes smaller.
Everything I stood for becomes a symbol.
Loses power and hope.
Everything I hoped and yearned becomes an empty loose thread.
Nothing to hold on to.
Flailing like a discarded spool.
Every day I am used and dipped like an instrument.
Retreating into the wilderness.
It was nice while it lasted.
Devoured by these cold hands.