This really reminds me a passage of Le Nausea..
"I'm in a the park. I drop onto a bench between great black tree-trunks, between the black, knotty hands reaching towards the sky. A tree scrapes at the earth under my feet with a black nail. I would like to let myself go[...] but I can't, existence penetrates me everywhere."
As much as we lay outward, we lay inward just as much; an existential calamity..Not quite what you were trying to say I presume; but I still correlate it to my image, even though yours is alot more about birth rather death.
