herachary
Bodies smell like a deli from a hell. I enter the room clutching my pack. Loaded, fatal. I used to sleep through this, you know. Wasn't really "there". Not anymore. I had become to enjoy it. Nah. Not enjoy. I began to put myself into it. Really, into it.
Like some goal I needed to reach. Guess what? I didn't get to keep me. There is no story to tell at the end. I'm still teething on some existential bone, like a hopeful dog.