Treasured Chronophage

Time tethers on in isolation:
A coil of the bastard guts
Of insect-beasts that feast and rut
Upon the bilious dilation
Of seconds blurring into days.
Intestines string the shifting maze:
A sign for when the world forgot
Their pupating decay. Let’s eat!
Let’s taste the inner swollen heat
Of wasted hours left to rot.