The condom wrapper on the ground whispers; The glass of Brandy whispers. The woman laying besided him whispers. The pencil laying next to a sketch of his life whispers. The phone chaotically rings, sounds bounce off the ways in different dimensions. The music skips in the background, whispering demonic and angelical messages through his pores, in one ear, through his mouth, out his fingertips.
He sits on the edge… the edge of his bed, with his hands crushing his head.
Paranoid eyes watching him through the pictures on the wall
Laying in a pile of ruby reds, creamy crimsons and satin black sheets.
Heart beats in a fast motion, as if it was a drum solo
Text messages beeping: What are you afraid of?
Losing Oxygen with her legs tightly around his waist.
Falling as he stood still. The Whispers showing his fate
I was on the other side of the door, banging, punching trying to save my friend from his whispers.
Am I too late? I finally kick the door down to find him laying on the bed covered in blood. “No! KEL!”