On Death

Death has been on my mind for over a year now. Most days I feel like I’m merely observing life from a distance, watching the steady movement of clock arms and the shapes of passing clouds from my bedside window. There is no risk involved in my actions, I lie in this bed all day everyday with no real life to lose, surviving from one blood or platelet transfusion to the next… instead it feels like death is ready to swallow me whole. It surrounds me and fills my days – death – death is the space that I am eroding away into. I’m a hoodoo in the badlands waiting patiently for the rain and wind to wear me down to the ground. I suspect that I will welcome death when it comes because I will no longer have to think or feel. I'm bald, my skin is ridiculously pale, and my cock is limp and useless. I no longer look at woman with lust or longing or wonder - This Is Death - there is no passion in death, it is simple clean and pure, it does not discriminate and it does not judge. Death is like big sky country on a moonless night. Death is simply space moving in.