The music violently clutters my mind. My soul is missing as if it were sucked down the drain of my last shower. I can see clearly, but it frightens me. I feel like I am watching myself do all I am about, without any control. I am as a puppet attached to strings leading me to my next move. I drag my fingers down my face, to check if I am still alive, can I still feel? I pull excess skin down and let go as it springs back to usual. My palms are rough. I lost intrest in the smooth texture they used to have. The fact my hands are rough and I was able to notice, doesn't mean I'm living. No one can describe death. Everyone has there idea's of it. Every morning I wake, knowing this could be death, and I don't know it. Everytime I go to eat, I think, is this my last time to feed. Once again I push my plate away. But there are those moments. Life is visible. I can feel it....I can taste it. I try to grip it with both fists and let it ooze out of me grip, between my fingers, down my wrists. You know how it is. those moments of pure ecstacy. Complete nirvana. Those times you look at the sky and don't care that it's endless. The good trips. The one's you receive by grabing the rigth pill. And when those moments have gone and wasted away, sucked down the drain with your soul, that my friends, that is death.

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