Residual Body Image

dog

I used to be alive but now I’m not any more I thought with unbearable anguish. Now I was dead. This was a very bitter pill to swallow. I wouldn’t be swallowing any pills any more I remembered because I was dead. I was running on residual body image. I was running on empty. I was running on less than empty. I was running on negative but it was catching up with me fast. It suddenly came to me like a bucket of ice cold water emptied over my head that I used to be alive but that I no longer was. A wave of unbearable anguish hit me and I wanted to cry out I wanted to cry out loud but I couldn’t because I had no mouth. All I had was residual body image drifting like smoke across the room. It more or less held together one way or another, somehow or other, but all the same it wasn’t exactly what you could call ‘substantial’. It was a pretty poor affair really but it was all I had. A bit of smoke desperately trying to hold itself together desperately trying to maintain itself in the face of the inexorable deteriorative force of entropy which was howling all around me like a gale from the arctic wastes. I didn’t have a mouth but the entropy did and it was howling like a mad thing doing its best to blast every last vestige of me away. Vestige being the right word to use here. How I wished that howling would stop. The thought hit – I used to be alive but now I was dead and the pain of this realization was unbelievable. It was like the first time all over again, it was if I had never before realized this fact. I was obviously having a bit of difficulty getting passed this one I commented wryly to myself, a sardonic smile playing around my lips as I took a deep satisfying pull at my Peter Stuyvesant Super King cigarette leant back in my chair and felt the smooth smooth smoke slowly filling my lungs enjoying the richly satisfying flavour exhaling luxuriantly enjoying the moment. Only – I realized – I didn’t have any lungs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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