Disciple of Cthulhu. Rise of madness.

Black vomit oozes from the ceiling. The dark wraps itself around me and incapsulates me in a black silk cocoon. Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, soon I too will transform. But no butterfly I will become. No physical change will my body endure, but its contents will alter as it fills itself with the black ooze. Not a single pure, noble thought will remain.

I must be asleep by now. Although quiet and serene now, soon the voices will appear louder and louder and tear my sane mind apart. I can feel how my brain tensions, because it already knows it's dying. It anticipates the coming storm of thoughts by remaining perfectly still. As if it holds its breath. Raging madness will overwhelm it. Soon. But all is quiet now...