Jan 12

the incessant running of a faucet,
a clock ticking rhythmically
with the sudden clink of metal on tile.

drip, drip, drip

a flow that's too late to stop
splashes filling the tub
gallons and gallons rushing to supply it.

drip, drip, drip,

crimson on clear creating spools of red colour,
this is it. this is all i'll ever be known for.
i've never seen the end so near.

drip, drip, swallow

it's all gonna be okay
i'll close my eyes and lean back
everything is a headrest if you make it one

drip, swallow relax,

i see dark, fuzzy spots yet feel a burning pain,
i feel so colourful yet soon i'll be gray
so here i'll lay until it's over and i'm found
cut scene, fade to black,

roll credits.

This is.. a rather old piece. I'd written it at a very bad time as a coping mechanism and although it did not come out very well I hold plenty of value to it.
Written by
Craig
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