Tin Funnel

A tin funnel

need only wait,

capturing raindrops

from wider expanse,

landing little splashes

ping

hollow in the air,

roll down,

whirlpool around

pulled in circles

to a concentrated end.

Crushed

Crushed

Slowly dying from the weight
that bends unpredictable curves
in time, I am
molten liquid crushed to the
density of clear reason.
Nothing precious as a blue
diamond’s shine or a final
exhale escapes, and golden sun
light too is pulled in
next to my
barely beating heart.
Deep inside the black most
endless microscopic space
where I am
slowly dying from the wait.