Dark and Delightful

He laid there; on a gray soft couch the color of the sky with a touch of rain. The ceiling stared back with a twisted grin reflecting his desperation.

The small echoing drips seemed familiar and too far for recognition. He struggled to get up as he was weak, the branch let go of his youth that night. His health lingers in between help and death. He failed to recognize his own shuffling footsteps towards the calling.

A voice, not in so many words but a noise, was far behind him...mocking him. The shuffling quickly turned into rushing, or was it wading?

His heartbeat faster and faster. His vision was fixed on the girl tied down at his ankles. Her body was indistinguishable from that of a human.

It was...art in the worst way possible. The time and intricacy. The anger and appeasement.

"I did it" the voice finally spoke.
The voice claimed no figure. It's anatomy didn't belong to such a person. It came from himself.