Pleasure of the Abyss

Impending doom of an existence,
a mind unraveled by manic deception—
drugs seep like shadows
into the veins of thought.
Illustrations of interference
swirl, twisting the brainstem
until reality bleeds.

Signals surge to the hub,
overloading circuits,
flooding the senses
until they forget how to feel.
The body jerks in tune
to a symphony of spasms—
a puppet dancing
on strings of static and flame.

Electrify the nerves,
fry the wires,
let the mind pretend
it still knows itself—
but deep down, the thrill
is in the fall,
in convulsions that shatter
the thin line between agony and bliss.

Eyes once clear and steady
now glaze like broken glass,
reflecting lights that warp
and bend to the beat
of a new kind of pulse.
You reach out,
but control is a ghost
that laughs as you choke
on your own delirium.

The external shell cracks,
the mind pulses to a rhythm
only darkness knows—
a beat that hammers
with the promise
of pleasurable, impending doom.
Each twitch, each gasp
is a dance closer to the edge,
a surrender to the sweet oblivion
that waits, grinning
in the shadows of your final breath.