Hallucination

Again and again like a broken record,

The words keep on repeating

In my mind, in my soul,

Like a plague finding its way into my veins

I lay not expecting the boredom to consume the never-ending forever

As it always does, it never stops.

From my ceiling to the walls, the shadows move on

Like a painting - embossed, their hands start to come out

Clutching at my arms, bleeding but neglected,

They rot.

Not knowing the sense of this

I feel I come to reality

The needles move away from my eyes

But I notice that they bleed.

There's no pain.

Just death and me.