I’ve no one to blameI supposebut myself.Isn’t that what they say?It’s my fault.I made the choicesI face the consequences. So this is how it goesI choose not to reach outbecause my hand wassummarily ignoredslapped awayand shushed.Weariness won, so Iretracted my hand. So this is how it goespieces of my life swirlinglike snow dusteach different, uniqueeach ...

There are millions of me and we all want to feast at the same rotting flesh that the bacteria in the plasma has opened up for us. I’m hungry and I know I will not live for long if I can’t eat the flesh. Desperate. I try and heave myself farther as I crawl over ...