Air begotten, I'm breeze.

I'm anxiously withering my cackling bones, insomnia haunts, my body beguiled and contorted lashing in upheaval.

I can't feel the skin on my face, a skin mask, a sheath, a sheet laminated, plastic and turgid, I'm fading like a whisk, slashing rash clash clasping clinkering chrome, whence whine livid laud, I'm petrified in the neverending dusk of dawn.