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The Lanky Length of Limbo

So here is Limbo, liminal and soft,
Which numbs the soul through cotton, endless haze;
If I were not inside this foggy loft
I'd scoff as though I knew the endless days.
Unchanging, gone with grace is time in here,
Each day I live some variant of life
That came before; each day it feels a year,
The catacombs with dullness is so rife.
Each scratch I make upon the floor just leaves,
It heals and whispers in my ear so sweet,
"There's no escape for you, yet with these cleaves
You bring yourself much closer to the heat."
And so with sleep I pass unchanging time,
You will not wake me with a booming chime.


The Adventures of Little Girl Sally, Marxist