Amidst a melancholy darkness, all is silent, all is still. Mimicking the nature of my soul at this precise instant...

A river flows within me dancing to the beat of a lonesome drum, waltzing me into a million realms of true disbelief where my thoughts linger eternally. I play the role of a mere onlooker to the sheer terror that ensues within the darkest chasms of my imagination...

Despite the sonnet of insanity playing alongside my unconsciousness, a drum still calls, a sweet psithurism flows through the branches of memory and a serpentine red river continues to flow mortally like clockwork...

Salty drops of rain embrace the names engraved in stone as beautifully decorated couples dance atop their ancient beds.

You see, their rivers stopped flowing at the final beat of their fateful drums, imprisoning them to a non-existent world where memories are no longer created. For now, they're dancing; while they await the final judgement.

A holy holy flash of light strikes the center of my still pounding drum, all the wine has been drunk and the last cigarette smoked, rivers are a flowin'. I awaken breathless, to an empty, white chamber. I know I am home. Without a pulse.

-Garth Lebowski