Shutting down, closing down.
Everything is stopping, slowing. I can feel it happen before they can see it. My vision is clouded with images, outer worldly and my hearing stalls. Stomach acids are moving and filling the places they shouldn’t, sending waves across my body. Every muscle contracts uncontrollably. Oxygen is passed through every vein, every capillary, but I’m filling with the poison of the outside. My skin burns, itches and irritates until it bleeds.
Shutting down, turning off.
My body seems to be delaying the sweetness of unconsciousness, the utter bitterness of the cold blackness. It wants to hold me here in a painful embrace, holding me to grasp onto the life I no longer care about.
Shutting down, power cut.
Souls, trapped in the bodies of idiots stand, lifelessly trying to help the lifeless. They could do so much more, but they don’t, and I applaud them. Paper rain, and roses in the shapes of hearts showers me from the heartless loved ones. Maybe the heart shaped roses could replace mine? Maybe I would wake and see the world differently. Maybe, maybe. But maybe not.
Shutting down, zoning out.
Tick, tick, tick. But no tock. No clock makes a sound so sinister. The sound beats away in the darkness, beats away in the brighter days, beats away when all else has fallen to the floor. My whole body shudders with this sound. I lay, seemingly motionless, and watch as the sinister clock, counting down the seconds of life, trembles within my chest, like a monster, beating at the ribs to get out. Playing its musical number.
Shutting down, blacking out.
My throat tightens, cutting off golden breath and taste. Ice cold. Touches of something horrifying and sharp. Needles and pins prick the skin red. Drops of rubies, so precious, gone; mixed with the dust of the floor of the attic. Dust fogs up my lungs. I have been stored. Put away. Forgotten forever, like windows of the past we only ever take out once in a decade. I’m stuffed in a cardboard box, rotting away, decaying.
Shutting down, shutting down.