I can hear the sound of careless whispers, the touch of a cold hand, the smell of death and rotting flesh, the taste of blood against my lips. Nothing feels right. Nothings the same. The quiet consumes you. The darkness swallows you. Shadows creep up and seem to follow you. Your walking on the edge of hells cliffs, almost falling into a inescapable trap. The fires burn and tortured souls moan in agony. Behind you, you cannot see, for there is only darkness and the sounds of lost souls. Dare you turn around or dare you fall, its your choice and its the worst one of all. The wind howls and fires crackle. You know your not alone. The voices whisper things you dare not hear. Trembling in fear, but you try to stand tall. The rocks beneath your feet crumble and stumble and fall. Holding on to the devils wings, you know this is the end. You take your last breath and let it all go, burning and rotting in hell.
July 1, 2009