Tick, tick, tick

As we desperately wait,

Clinging to the joys we once knew.

The air is thick and

Our lungs wither into blackness.

My body is wet from the

constant dripping.

The last I remember,

We were laughing,

Smiling,

Loving life.

Then, in a flury of biting crystal,

We were screaming,

Crying,

Embracing death.

Our weak eyes pry open in hope

At the oncoming sounds of safety.

So much red is around us;

Red from ourselves,

Red from each other,

Red flashes bouncing off the trees.

And at the heavenly voices of

angels, ready to raise us from perdition,

the red in front of us grows.

Our bodies warm,

We frantically rush to move,

But we are pinned down.

A malicious pressure across out chests condemns us,

And the red grows,

Combining with the

Constant dripping.

All we hear is

Tick, tick, tick,

As we desperately wait.

And in a furious onslaught

Of silver and rubber and crystal,

The red consumes us

Into the blackness.