| I can smell death, I can taste it. It does not taste or smell like anything, just like a shift, a replacement, a bad shape shifting spirit that takes over just besides you, with you still in it. I start to talk, to act, to walk, to feel, but it is no longer the recognizable me, it is some bad taste in your mouth, a suspicion that it is all just a nauseous, deep down inside to the world that has a bad core. Death is the notable absence. The feeling sets in, that it is not you that is dead, but the world and its people are soulless, departed, only their shadowy shells remaining. Your are living in a world of shadows in the valley of death. The bad, as the opposite to Plato’s Good, does not depart until you realize you are the shifted one. You walk in the valley. You can still talk to the outside, but nobody understands nothing. That’s when I give up until I wake up again, somewhere, perhaps someplace.
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