My Home, Disentegration

A long time coming, in a windowless room. A dim light overhead sheds no insight to this situation.
The rains have become second nature. As a result the flooding rots the wood, medicating anything it touches with mold and mildew. The carpet has disappeared through the dark murky water. Scratches in the paint tell a subtle story of a man going mad. A world unknown a world away.

At the bottom of the door the wood starts to swell and split, an acting sponge, soaking up the liquid to send higher the ever spreading disease. A months time will take it towards to ceiling, eight months time will completely enclose this hell. Releasing particles, airborn into stagnant air. Inhaling, and coming to a collective rest on the floor of my lungs. The trickle that flows in from behind this bedroom door brings the water level up slightly everyday that passes. The only familiarity is a light discoloration on the wall where a cross hung. Faith, where has it gone? A time not so long ago I thrived, strived and tried. Everything was within arms reach, had a life I could adore. When you least expect it the walls will start to close in on you, the air will compress. Simple things like breathing, seeing and living become obsolete. You'll learn to ignore the humidity, the claustrophobia and the lonliness. A paste will form in your mouth, your voicebox still have the price tags attached to it. As unused as my muscles
as useless as the thoughts trapped in your mind.

I lean out over the xedgex. It is a long way down and I am not sure if this water is deep enough to soften the the impact. The ledge I've been perched on for so long finally erodes from the passing tide, from under this strain. Now I can see what used to be the floor boards, now a fermenting cesspool. I take the plunge, and I'm paddling out as fast as I can, not looking back. There won't be any saved breath for the swim back.

This is the living hell I've created, a place to call my own, a home of sorts.