Wet Death

It didn’t feel like death; true – the rocks felt fatal as my skin connected to their wet, algae-covered solidity. It felt as a sort of metaphor… The kind of link between dimensions, between gods. The hallucinations never really ceased either in the space between the living and the immortal. First my ribs cracked in such a way, that the sound sounded like an echo under water. My nails scratched off my halved fingertips. Still it was more bliss than pain… More harmony than chaos… More darkness than light and more good in the dark. It didn’t Water liliesfeel like death or anything like the untruths i had more than heard enough of… It felt like life… The cycle… I had felt that way before… Trapped and smitten, forgotten…bewildered.Ending. Only this time i would not rise from my comfortable lair.I would wait, still as silence and i would breath out truths that billions of modern liars could not mask. I would rot at the pit of bliss and whisper to all curious. As waves do to sea-shells.

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