The clock is still ticking.

Pieces, shards unfound—

Lost in the emptiness,

The black hole underneath all.

The stillness is killing me,

Drawing blood with each breath I take,

Each breath needing more effort

Than the last.

The slow beeping in the back of my mind

Has me convinced that

I'm screaming your name.

Stinging the windows to soul,

Tears are flowing.

They won't stop. (What won't?)

Taking one sharp gasp,

The gentle pounding is brought to an end.

The kaleidoscope of colors fades.

The once scarlet lips become chapped.

The last thing I hear

Is the trickle of water to the ground.


Then there's blackness.

The clock is still ticking.