Man: The tremulous beating beneath my chest reminds me that death is infinitely preferable to anything life holds for me. There is nothing waiting for me. Sunken eyes, pale skin, frail frame, dead gaze, feel nothing but revulsion for the audacity of continuing to live. My thoughts turn to the length of rope that could carry me away. Salvation. I look forward to the embrace of decay – the dirt kissing my pores. I can’t think of a single reason to take another breath, yet still I hesitate to make my body into an offering. My body to the grave.