At last, at last, at last.
I can hear Silence.
It buzzes inside my cranium
and the lack of noise is nothing short of terrifying.
It slowly shifts through me,
Robbing me of my remaining senses.
Sight. gone. Ocular windows open but
dead. Touch. Gone. The tingling of deprivation is gone too.
Taste. Gone. The roof of my mouth is empty of taste.
Smell. Gone. And my head fills with a cold
freshness. Like a wave of spiralling
hands, the deadness moves through me,
mixing into my body and killing it slowly
and I decay like a weed free from soil,
And my soul is released into an
endless black void.
Where it, I, lies softly and silently,
Humming faintly with heat and inaudible sound,
But it, I, will not be alone for long.
For I shall take others with me with my mind’s spiralling
wave-hands that move like worms through the smallest cracks in others
and up, up, into their minds where they begin to unhinge as it,
I, covers the internal oval windows in their brains,
So they, too, feel the
And when their soul becomes an it,
them, my own will grasp it softly, hands touching
without sense on either of their, our, souls.
Come with me.
And be free.
At last, you can know what it is to live forever,
At last, you can feel the deistic bliss only reserved for Gods,
At last, you can be sure that there is land
beyond this senseless and tingling wall of Death.