Not a tender beat in that heart.
Cramp-like pain in the chest, and a headache that never stops.
The ink-black horrors when my eyes close.
With mouths peeled apart, as if to engulf.
A dark blue light with flickering shadows, watching everything as if from a fire.
A jade elephant sentry, at the gate to the red hill.
Smiling greasy faces in bliss oblivious, is it a warning?
Effortlessly fingerpainted masterpieces of a certain style I made in my mind.
Distracted and gone, but then back, almost but never.
Suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you breathed.
Realisation: a death of the self.
He’s not breathing.
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