He sat there, bubbling.
Hard hat on, sun shrinking in the horizon, hammer in hand,
Marveling at his masterpiece.
It stood there majestically towering over the other houses like itself.
His fellow workers turned in for the night,
Though he would stay.

His eyes turned square, glazing over with sparkling glass.
The hammer in his hand into a nearby tree.
His mouth morphed into the vague shape of a door.
His limbs shrinking.
The skin on his face hard and splintered.
His clothes spread out and ruffled into smooth grass.
In that exact spot, was where he would stay.