Everything You See, You Might Be Seeing

I'm Not A General Or A Colonel Or A Builder Of Cities. I'm Just A Corpse Who Wants Not To Be.

Of Course, If I Eat All Of Him, If I Spare His Brain, He'll Rise Up And Follow Me Back To The Airport, And That Might Make Feel Better. I'll Introduce Him To Everyone, And Maybe We'll Stand Around And Groan For A While. It's Hard To Say What 'friends' Are Any More, But That Might Be Close.

I Think For A Minute. Watching My Wife Fade Into The Distance, I Put A Hand On My Heart. "dead." I Wave A Hand Toward My Wife. "dead." My Eyes Drift Toward The Sky And Lose Their Focus. "want It...to Hurt. But...doesn't." Julie Looks At Me Like She's Waiting For More, And I Wonder If I've Expressed Anything At All With My Halting, Mumbled Soliloquy. Are My Words Ever Actually Audible, Or Do They Just Echo In My Head While People Stare At Me, Waiting? I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

That's Why We Have Memory. And The Opposite Of Memory— Hope. So Things That Are Gone Can Still Matter. So We Can Built Off Our Pasts And Make Future.

Here It Comes. My Inevitable Death, Ignoring Me All Those Years When I Wished For It Daily, Arriving Only After I've Decided I Want To Live Forever.