Manifestoes From The Amusement Park
2002-02-03 21:23:55 (UTC)

Kill The Moon and Turn Out The Sun

I'm above myself, looking down. There are people huddled
around me. My view is obscured by these vultures. I wait
for a while for the crowd to disperse. They finally head
out of the room, one by one. They all seem to have
something in their hands.... various things. These objects
all seem familiar to me, a little too familiar, yet I can't
quit figure out what they are. More and more people leave.
Finally, everyone is gone except for my body.... well,
what's left of it. It seems as though those people were
doing an autopsy of sorts on me. They looked and poked and
picked me apart. I look down at what is left of me. A few
flaps of skin here, an organ that was deemed useless there.
They took my thoughts, my feelings, my soul. I'm an empty
carcass now. This thought is strangely comforting as I
simply hover in the air. I wonder what these people will be
doing with the various parts of me that they took. My
visions was poor while I was alive so the man who took my
eyes got screwed. I was never much of a singer so the fool
who took my vocal cords will surely be dissapointed. And
let's not even get started on the poor sap who took my
brain hoping to find something. The walls are splattered
with my blood... the result of the scavenger hunt on my
corpse. I'm still observing my surroundings when I notice
something on the floor. It seems as though they didn't
notice this, as it partially hidden under the table that my
poor body is on. From my position I can't see it properly.
All I can make out of it is a ragged, ripped, bruised
mass.... It takes me a minute to realize that this thing is
my heart. I'm not sure if I am glad that it has been left
or slightly upset that no one wanted it. Hoping that it was
just simply misplaced in the shuffle of my other body
parts, but knowing deep down that, just like in real life,
no one wanted my heart, I sob.