organic cemetery

the clock strikes ten as wires turn to veins and climb up the ceiling and crawl down the walls. this room is alive again. the pounding of the heart drowns out our voices and rattles in our chest. you don't have to be brave, i can see the tears in your eyes. the blood of jaded men is rising fast. keep your head above the surface and don't swallow their lies. with every heartbeat a new captive helplessly becomes part of the room. slowly they sink into the walls, their heartbeats' indistinguishable from that of the room. their lives once defined by beautiful imperfection and individual potential now defined by bleeding walls and frayed wallpaper. i can feel the room closing in on me as i compromise my aspirations. i can feel it's warm breathe on my cold neck as it whispers to me in a grey voice. it tells me to drop my morals and swim in the flood. it's breathe reecks of relativity. the clock strikes twelve, this is it. the room is almost filled to the roof, swim for saftey darling before it takes you too. i can feel myself dissapear as i become one with the room.