sat in my porcelain encased coffin,
my body floating among the bits of filth from those who have occupied this space before me.
mind blank as a freshly stretched canvas,
and thoughts come through the white noise like a splash of warm blood against the clean tile on the floor where my coffin lays.
the shock jolting my body out of its stupor only for a moment,
then returning to its dead weight.
each moment of time that passes without a disruption sends my limbs closer to rigor mortis.
and I’m drowning even though my lungs have a clear path for oxygen to travel.
my body rejecting any form of sustenance as I lay in the cooling water,
it just wants to make the process go quicker,
ready to surrender to my mind and its devious ways.
i let it happen.
i’m so tired of this,
this constant feeling of fear but not being able to bring myself to leave the filth i sit in.
and i’m scared of dying
but i’m scared of living in this place more.