Flash backs

Thick drops creep in the back of my skull, like wires they weave a web,

 in deep purple and the darkest red

They push and pull, crawl and crave,

slither behind the others backs and continue to raid

until they reach the frontal lobe,  they scrape and scratch

till it cleaves and cracks

They trickle and trickle

slowly they're dripping

in front of my eyes, creating curtains, and there, behind,

there is a scene, silhouettes and shadows they writhe and wring,

telling the story of another sorrowful king

I float around in the weaved web

of deep purple and the darkest red,

I aim to swim

to find my way back to the show, truly grim,

though I cannot

And as I start to drown and drench

I suppose this is not the end

because as the liquid fills up my last lung

I cannot think of when I last belonged.

As the shadows slaughter the final silhouette

I see a carnage I thought I'd forget

Inside my shell,

this is where I ought to dwell.