Parasites burrow in the fibers of the carpet in which I lay my rotting head.
Make their way through the caving tunnels once full of electricity.
They scuttle through my ear canals
Whisper sweet nothings of blissful dreams.
Wishful thinking.
My conscience reduced to these alien creatures,
Microscopic demons.
I am nothing, they tell me.
I spiral into the nothing, embrace my non-existence.
Become the negative space.
