The light, feathery material completely envelops him, covering every surface, crevice, corner.
He sees, he hears, nothing.
Drowning in the speckles of light that squeeze through the tiny gaps in the cloth,
even his closed eyes cannot block out the whiteness.
Drowning, and struggling for breath,
there is no surface to break in this endless ocean.
A futile cry escapes mute lips,
and the walls around him immobilize all trains of thought.
He hears, he knows, nothing.
An imaginary hand squeezes his own
as the room seems to grow ever so cold,
and the bed beneath him turns to wood.
The whiteness disappears, yet he still cannot open his eyes.
A futile cry escapes able lips,
but his mouth is filled with gauze.