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They slither ‘neath my skin at night To rob me of my sleep. The muscles twitch on hidden strings Which make the tissue leap. The dying tissues leap.

I twist above disheveled sheets Frustration winning out To keep me wide awake again Till morning comes about. Next morning comes about.

Like popcorn kernels popping up Beneath the withered skin The muscles of my legs all twitch To discord kept within The death of strength within.

The tintinnabulation Which flit across my tongue To tickle palette and the lips With many songs unsung. The songs will stay unsung.

For all the muscles of my legs, My tongue, my arms, is done. My back, my fingers and my hands ARE dying, one by one. My muscles, one by one.

For each fasciculation Denotes another death The muscle cell and fiber, too, Tap out the toll of death. The silent toll of death.

Author unknown


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