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.