Age (Poems for friends-II)

The air is
heavy where
I breathe,
my lungs
twist under
its maddening
density...

My tongue
has turned to
stone, I'm
wrinkled
to the bone.

The whiteness
of the worm
invades my
intestines,
My blood
poisoned
by time.

Is there no way
to escape
this creeping
gravity?