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Conscious coma.
Life is grey visions,
barely perceptible.
Waiting for dissolution
clinic exitus.
Physical decay.
Like a thousand crystals
running through my veins
the poison benumbs.
On the toilet floor I lie.
Reduced to filth and stench.
Home. Warmth. Life.
Seconds separate me from the outer world.
Conscious coma.
My delightful decay.
