Through a mirror darkly , we dead walk among the living ; though they do not know it . everything the living see and do we do as well . we watch tv in their living rooms.... attend aa mettings and wittness the crimes against their fellow mortals . we can also see things that the living cannot . as in the decay and death that is already present in things , people and things that are close to their death even when it is unexpected are marked by it .
destruction and decay take vivid forms . their marks are used by use to understand those of whom we hunt , whom we feed upon . a person who's about to die appears cadaverous , with hallow eye's and roughend skin ; their veins gleam out calling us . a car destined for a crash already look's dented . billboards tattered....roads cracked ...paint peeled ....metal rusted....buildings in rubble .. flowers wilted and people die .
If you slam through day and night in death , you might learn to appreciate the sanctity of life . the dead remember the throbbing pain of being alive , pain buried all their need's ;then the drug's buried the pain . perpetually tense yet coldly numb even their sex was a drug , A hole to be filled with an unrecognized need ; only the most violent pain the most overwhelming pleasure could even register a whimper of a sensation . one owe's respect to the living ; to the dead one owe's only the truth .
I am by myself but not alone ;
where the teeth
of maddness
jump , jump
dance and sing .
i am pilot error
i am fetal distress
i am that random chromosome
i am complete and total madness
i am fear .
