The Sensing

You can hear the growling through its labouring breath.
You sit, panting and sweating.
The remnants of your arm,
Like fleshy wet ribbon.

You can hear the scratching through the creaking floor.
You sit, shaking and trembling.
The persistence of your fear,
Like sins never forgiven.

You can see the breaking through the shattering door.
You stand, hastening and quickening.
The insistence of its hunger,
Like demonic wrath driven.

You can see the stalking through the shrinking room.
You rush, panicking and flailing.
The resistance of your will,
Like steel now riven.

You can feel the licking through the gnashing teeth.
You wince, quaking and vibrating.
The reliance of your life,
Like lost recognition.

You can feel the tearing through the ripping sinew.
You cry, submitting and slipping.
The compliance of your skin,
Like a flesh made prison.

You can taste the crying through the tormenting feast.
You bleed, flowing and screaming.
The defiance of your fight,
Like blinded vision.

You can taste the dying through the crunching bone.
You surrender, floating and drifting.
The silence of your being,
Like a final decision.