The Agony
by Eterna (Jan 1999)

inside your cube of virtual hell
solid and unpenetrable, the walls your enemies
and just as surely as the doors have betrayed you
you've become a captive..
in your 3D prison.
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you stand helplessly in one corner
back straight as a crooked pin
and the beads of sweat upon your forehead
slowly fall, falling, yes, they fall
skipping along, running, tripping..
finally falling from the end of your nose
upon the peeling green and white linoleum
oh yes, it curls menacingly towards you
so it seems..
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your eyes cross pathetically, from this dastardly puzzle
and like a real bastard, you look all around you
yes, at the peeling and vicious linoleum
and overhead, the blinking lamp blinks
in a trance, the blinking makes you notice the lamp is steady
no breeze violates the dead calm of this airless "room"
and you suddenly feel the suffocation begin
like a sunday morning ritual at church
blinking..
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[the ecstasy]
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"but what's this?", you ask yourself..
"a cube inside of another cube?"
as your eyes gaze hungrily, with a self defeating hope
at this plastic box that once was invisible
"or perhaps i was merely overlooking it", you say to yourself
-
it lies inobtrusively in the very center of the floor
awaiting your acknowledgement of its very existence
or so it seems..
"and perhaps my brain is becoming functionless," you think to yourself
you think, therefore you are.
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your steps are hesitant yet eager
to reach this supposed haven
your retreat from this fucking hell that has confounded you
and plays with your life, such as puppet strings entice a puppet to sing
and dance..
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your shaking hand (lack of oxygen) moves towards the plastic handle
as the other hands hold the box
and you lift this lid, as the hinges squeal with plastic
grinding..
"what's this?", you ask yourself, although you know the answer
"why, it's a blue capsule.."
-
a blue capsule, shining, and flickering in the blinking
of the lamp..
"but what is it?"
you scratch your head like a stereotyped monkey
your nose beholds the aroma of the pill: nothingness
it has no smell, no outbound pleasure for you to behold
except for it's very, very nice blue..
"it's so blue.. it's beautiful.. it wants me, as i want it."
you touch it to your lips, as your lips touch it
in joint partnership, so to speak
and as you set it lightly upon your toungue
you begin imagining an acid trip, such as you'd had before
whole worlds flaring up in your mind
to save you from this room, and yourself
your heart beats with anticipation
your toungue lolls back, and the pill has slid easily down your throat
-
as you kneel upon this linoleum floor
and a few moments pass
your heart stops
not from lack of oxygen, but from this pill
cyanide? that's only what comes to mind
your last thought..
"damn you, cube, i beat you. you will not drive me insane."
...
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