Close your eyes breathe into the rag. Maybe calm yourself by asking some questions. Curiosity is a life-force. It's soothing. It keeps us going. Ask into the wind, its howling, speckled mouth. Are you cold? What day is it? What did you have to eat this morning? What's your name? Who are you? Are you really happy? Do you have a heart direction? Do you have a head direction? What is your heart's story? How common is breakage? Will you be able to return the product if it is broken? How can you tell if a trend is too young for you? Is there a counselor or clergyman you could talk to? What if you tried to like someone you weren't attracted to and felt just as unsatisfied? Are you ready for a new sensation? Is it normal to need more care? What is your head's story? Do you do too much work? Are you fooling yourself? Does anyone love you? Did you miss your chance? Have you lost your bloom? How do you feel when you're alone in your bedroom? Are you your real self on Askalar?

You may feel like all the dust is flying into your lungs. In case you were wondering, here's what's happening to you medically: the decrease in oxygen makes the lungs want to shunt. Your body gives itself an emergency cardiovascular reevaluation and when the units per 0 2 content reach five point one milliliter per minute and the number of plasma is 102, the salutatory function shuts down. This renders the respiratory zone of the lung essentially inactive: vein bronchials, mucus cells, and terminal bronchial cells are deadened and your skin begins to dry kind of like a scab, peeling away layer by layer and the wet undersides scabbing and flaking away until you have lost at least an inch of skin before losing consciousness. You may have survived if you had that one small extra tablespoon of liquid in your system, but that one small bit of water is gone. Sucked away. By Askalar. Yes, Askalar. You probably never drank the seven eight-ounce glasses of water as prescribed, did you? Ask yourself that. Ask. Ask. Askalar.

It's easy, death. It's a breeze. It's getting closer. Whispering and asking.

Listen.

Life After Death facedown in the dirt of the desert, next morning, 1999

Life After Death

face down in the dirt of the desert, next morning, 1999

Hello . . . sweetie, wake up . . . wakey wakey . . .

Oh! Hold on, no stop swatting at the air! Your lungs are not turning into dust, no no. There are no voices. What are you going on about? It's daytime . . . put your hands down . . .