A MORBID PERSEPTION

A small cold and dark room, an enormous silence that bothers , just the noise of thoughts , discontinued and disconnected thoughts that as form of intensities penetrates the body without compassion and harm it leaving in it scars that remind pain. Air coming in and out of a body, a desperate heart biting, flashes of images appearing and disappearing, unknown and known distortional faces, voices of demons and tears of hope. Butterflies in a stomach, starving butterflies that feed their selves from the tired flesh of nervous humans, a stomach aching because of the powerlessness and desperation of mortality, a whole life wasted in words, words that become blood, spilled blood, words that condemn. Reasons that calm and at the same time vanish as stars that one day existed and shined for a long time, but they were all ready dead.
A drop of water that reliefs from thirst, the freshness of water that goes down of a thirsty throat a dry throat that needed that drop of water to feel alive, two, five, thousands, a billion of water drops. Water drops enough to make some body drawn, stripping it from the optimism it once had. Sun beams that keep nice and warm the living corpse that once was called body, sun beams that after many hours start to burn the skin that turn into rotten blisters, rotten blisters that for worms are a feast, but still salvation is in a mind although, at that time, that mind is just a mad mind, at that point not even a soul is redeemed for the sin of believing of its existence.
Suddenly a voice is emitted from other body, the door is finally open, and then a new day is starting…