Putrid, Black Cocoon pt. 1

Ye with little hope
remove thy self...
 
Sitting in a warm tub of water, stoic, indifferent
The blade cuts deep, parted flesh, severed tendons.
Blood flows effortlessly, dripping from your finger tips
A growing pool of blood, dripping echoes within your head.

The tub water grows warmer as precious life flows from you
Your heart fills with anxiety, pumping faster and harder.   
A blood smeared message is scrawled across the wall
"For all the sins I have committed in the eyes of God...
what's one more?"

Streaks of blood run from the lettering, drying quickly
As time fades away your heart begins to slow with death.
Your skin changes color from pale white to an off yellow
What is left of your blood flows to the lower extremities.

Cold staring eyes, no reflection of life remains
Your silent breath, your still, nonbeating heart.
The flow of blood has ebbed, only an occasional drip
Dark colored crimson now covers your bathroom floor. 

A cool summer night
Flies swam you now.
A natural order of things
Oh how the maggots call.
Off in the distant the siren blares
The high pitched whine echoes within.  

"I am here, I await thee."

The paramedics fight diligently to save you
And there in your deep dark decent...
something reaches out!