What goes around, goes around, goes around, comes all the Burt Bacharach

[anotherfailure]

Death Perception

Unseeing eyes…
Burst capillaries.
Ecstasy of brain death overwhelming
At the end of my rope strangling, swinging
Violently approaching an end, enveloped in blackness.

Reaction’s completion brings no closure,
For they rise now out of the shadows.
THEY. ARE. NOT. REAL. NOT. REAL.