The Top of the World Club

My crawling skin, my crawling skin,
what circle of hell are we fallen in,
so dread and drear, so dread and drear,
the pressure above an atmosphere, open-jawed.
All the stars are darkening,
all the stars extinguishing one by one.

Worlds we thought were ours to own
disappeared and gone,
disappeared,
disappeared.

The Top of the World Club