Black Liquid

A nocturnal shadow cries a tear of death, with each drop a blossom of the reaper's rose. I hear a water drop. Drip, drip, drip it is not water. I touch it, then find myself embraced in a fleshy pulse. Te-dunk, te-dunk, te-dunk it is getting faster. What is this? A rush? A pulse? The tub overflows with a black liquid. The heart, it is stopped. I crawl out of a mouth full of webs. A sight of blood dried razors to the left of the body, wait what body? I am gone, there was nothing. I hear a water drop. I walk toward it; however, it is just a circle, there is no end. My head is filling with hollow words. If I cannot feel pain, then why does it hurt inside? There is a door in the distance. It is a steel door cold to the touch. I shove the door open just a bit; the air is blistering my skin. With every step I feel smaller, but was I even big? Who sees? Who hears? Who will tell? Every thought replenished by depression. Plunk, my foot hits something warm. I look up to see a light. There are some stairs leading up to a hole. Climbing those steps makes it feel like an eternity of something repetitive. My eyes glaze over when I reach the light, however there is no light just another dream that could never be reached just a black abyss with an endless pit. When will I escape, I never will? I am enclosed in a ball, a beautiful ball of death. A new light has appeared, and I never cease trying to reach it. With every beacon of light, a new romantically depressing illusion. In my nightly illusions a door with a rose engraved into it illuminates to the color of red. I open it to find a bathtub. The color of the room is of a beautiful lilac sky. The odor is sweet and sour of a lavender lemon twist. Drip, drip, drip. My head turns to the faucet of the tub. The water is black, a Black Liquid. The tub fills slowly, as if I were being submerged with molasses. I feel it crawling up my legs, with every breath I take, another inch toward the black abyss.