  Disinfectant by Mazohyst The old man, lying in his hospital bed, Waiting for death to carry him away. The smell of the disinfectant, piercing the senses of the waiting relatives. Waiting for the moment, waiting for death to carry him away.
Do you regret now? What you should have said, but have not done? What you should have done, but have not done? What awaits you? The gaping black abyss of the unknown, the place we all go... When your mother died, you wondered what she felt... now you feel it yourself... Is it nice? The moment approaches. You see it on the faces of your family. They stand around the bed... Looking at you, you, with those tubes sticking out your body. The young ones, watching in fascination as the heart monitor beats...
Even now, you feel the strain it takes to keep it beating, waiting for that final moment, Waiting for death to carry you away. There... you hear it now The call to leave. Your family stands, helpless begging you to stay. You can't hear it anymore Your mind, your consciousness, your soul, drifting away into nothing The droning beep... heralding your departure heralding the moment, that death took you away. 
