Events, episodes and eras end. What remains is residue. The clutter at the end of the gig. The after thoughts. The unconsumed. The irrelevant. The un-burnt bones among the ashes. The mirages and flashes from memories. The haunting waves of sounds. The unending and infinite darkness. The charred gates of possibilities. The mummified effigies of life. The “no more”. The once floating body of knowledge now gone; only a faint smell of “what once was”.

Hands fervently struggle to grasp and hold within what no longer exists. Lungs battle to breath the air that once was. Feet clamp in the quick sand to make one final stand. The skin curdles and the sight deceives. The eye lids give away. You don’t sleep or wake up. You don’t dream, you don’t live. You exist in some vacant limbo and you are never sure if you really do. The senses fail. The grip dissipates.

The cowbells you once heard as a child keep coming back to you. You can feel the sound but can’t hear it. The fragrance of flowers that once brought cheer, now only bring back residual imprints on your sightless vision. The actions that once tasted like life now seem like a one-dimensional wall art on some far corner of the endless chasm. Then it suddenly hits you. You don’t belong here. You never did.
At long last, you see a thousand “YOUs” on the burning grounds, trying without avail to change what is. And you remain dislodged forever.

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