a slow death

With exposure to the harsh elements, my once supple skin has cracked and crusted. I struggle under the weight on my back, off-balance and fall onto the concrete. My breath comes rasping in fits. It doesn’t matter if they find me or not now. Wincing, for a moment awash with awareness of all I’d hoped to achieve. I wonder when exactly it became too late. Far above, distant stars glimmer in the indigo night. Am I about to find out what lies beyond, I wonder, turning my head to face the horizon. The umber infinity. Another spasm. It’s excruciating. What did they feed me? Gasping, I feel my intestine liquefy. A wave of warmth, then fried, desiccated and drained, all movement ceases and I expire.

“Here’s another one!”

“This place is infested with the suckers”, the gardener sniffs, tossing the dead snail into the compost. “Put out some more pellets”.

a slow death

ToxtethOGrady

Joined October 2007

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Artwork Comments

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