A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a surf-tormented shore Rasping cough, less frequent, maybe i really have thrown myself into the ocean amd all of the rest of this is that last dreamstate the brain undergoes before expiring. Somnolent musings. rattling lungs, taste of seawater, comparatively clean, no longer the corrupted fluids that had taken residence amongst the bronchial tubes...
funny light-headedness, low glucose, enhancing the perception that this is perhaps not entirely real. Maybe i'm still in that white room on the eleventh floor with the ovoid windows looking out over the city to the southwest of me, drifting in and out of consciousness as my vital signs play funny tricks and my blood turns to an acidic toxin within my veins, shutting me down organ by organ, system by system dream within a dream 4:22 p.m. - 2003-03-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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