December 23rd, 199X

Your heart, mind, and eyes awaken to the throes of a peril distant to your being in this moment; dread clutches your heart, burning your mind & blinding your sight. The body is stiff & the air is still, a low-pitched drone your sole node of information you've the ability to ascertain in this one moment. Then unto another, deathly cold enveloping that of your unmoving being; a thought birthed from your burning mind as a fraction of your sight is returned in flashes as the moments tick by like the seconds of the clock. Your eyes observing what you recognize as your very room, delightfully decorated in artifacts you hold dear. Framed pictures of your many travels, vinyls of your most acclaimed musical projects, collectibles of the varying ranges of media you follow & praise so feverishly. All the things as they were left as you know them; the burning of your mind subsiding as this image is painted upon your retinas, the cold that afflicts your appendages reaching the organs that inhabit your skull. Another moment falls with the feeling becoming numbing, the clarity carrying with it a gift-a realization. A necessary engine in the furtherance of life dawns on cessation, the heart beating in your chest shares a frigid grave of stagnant blood & pale flesh. Death has claimed you in the walls of your own abode & in your own very space, a sudden development of your now untimely youth of twenty-six years treading amongst the buried lives before yours, experiencing all that those given life similar to yours mustered to offer during days past. The previously distant throes grow near, your soul risen from the corpse that was formerly you; granting you perspective. Untethered from your mortal coil you observe the scene as it was the moment consciousness gave way to your ancestors; sunlight pierces a shattered window struck true from the mountainous rooftops of buildings blurred to your sight in the ephemeral form you so recently gained, its destination a red mist & from it a spattering of blood droplets and skull fragments, a mockery of what formerly acted as your conduit in life. The throes yet grow, tugging at your soul even now as you're struck with the circumstances of your death; the scene in its lucidity begins to bastardize itself into myriad shapes of rot, a dread growing closer to your core essence. Peeling walls, pitted flesh, cracking floors, sunken skies; the air is now all but still, writhing amidst the everything like a pit of larvae burrowing into the fragile remnants of your memory, reducing the scene & the years you lived into unfathomable decay. To shield yourself from bearing witness brings greater stages of desolation to what was formerly you, until the moment all that remains is a twisted blasplemy of the soul you've curated all this time. There's the sounding of laughter, roaring, rending, and winds, then as if destined by fate your unruly soul embraces the oncoming malevolence of a thousand fallen angels, dragged below & forever torn from Earth's cradle of life. Bound for rebirth in Hell's crawling flames & souls fraught with the dregs of humanity.