The door. 
A sundial of heaviness reduces the angles.
Minute by infinite minute, shadows form in places of light, 
and darkness closes in on the slivers that remain.
Cold.
Red.
Unweilding.
The molasses momentum moves it ever closer.
I.am.almost.done.

On my knees. 
Scraping my nails slong the edges, grasping at splinters ticking away. 
I.cannot.let.go.
Even if I wanted to, my heart is the jamb.
The heaviness surrounds me, contains me. 
Shutting me out.

Then, a moment.

Sunlight aligns
and streams through the keyhole.
Splinters yeild. 
I.am.unhinged.