32 o'clock

Folder: 
Notes on Life

Silently

I wait for it to come upon me

Like smoke that reeks of burnt flesh

It seeps through my windows and the cracks on my doors

A year ago I would have fought it

But I was young and foolish then

And now all I do is wait

For when it comes I can't stop it

 

Yes

I breathe it in

I watch the room spin around me

And then wither and die

Like a potato skin left in the sun

32:45 says the clock

But there's nothing wrong with that

What's life without a little risk?

 

Colors fade to grey

And I laugh as they are murdered

Screaming and exploding in vivid rainbows

But then even these are swallowed by the darkness

 

The ceiling blossoms with spiders and oil

A black gunk that seeps down and overtakes the specimens that run before it

Dead

They scream

 

It floods my sytem

Clogging my lungs

Smothering my brain

There is no pain

It will all be over soon

 

Hahahahahaha

It's 32 o'clock

But there's nothing wrong with that

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