Within my bath carved out of bone, I sit waiting for the tap to open.
I lay still as I stare at the ceiling made of eyes.
The walls whisper malevolent words, they make me deaf, but I ignore them.
They're not worth my time.
Hands reach out of the drain and begin choking me, I can't feel anymore.
I don't seem to care.
They're not worth my time.
The smell of metal rises, it's a signal.
I can hear the liquid rushing down the pipes and onto my head.
I'm blinded by the rich red flowing out.
I swallow great amounts of it and I begin to drown.
I'm not afraid.
It's not worth my time.
I've been striped away from my senses.
I've become numb.
I don't care though.
Worrying is not worth my time.
Nothing is and nothing will ever be.
