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"So...I'm basically insane now. I've not left the house in a little over a week, I find myself staying hidden in my room, sitting in the dark, mumbling things to myself as I try and write my poetry. Have I completely lost my mind...? Have I slipped back into the abyss of my own self-loating and despair...? Or is the writing on the walls only a premonition of what is to come...? Heh heh heh...I sincerely hope so..."

The blood dripped down the walls, it's grotesque beauty shimmering in the wan sunlight that filtered through the drawn shades, it's vile words dancing merily: "The time has come...from my chest to the grave, my heart still only beats for you...how I wish you could see it."


Another one of those random mumblings of mine, I thought of using this in one of the books I'm writing, or maybe even just leaving it as is, and letting the reader draw their own conclusions about it.