“Let the dead bury the dead,” they say and I agree. I have shoveled
enough for two lifetimes. Let the dead pick up shovel and spade. When hell is
full the dead will dig the graves, but until then… I buried one more of the
dead; I buried him deep. Obsessed as we were with germs and disease, paranoia,
I wore a level III hazmat suit and a mask for protection against both ritual
and bacteriological defilement.
And then, when the work was done, the dirt replaced, I sat to rest-for it was hot and I was worn. I tried to rest, but as they say, and again I agree, “there is no rest for the weary.” I sat in the courtyard, now cemetery, with my back against the wall. I removed my gas mask to sleep with my back against the wall and my face uncovered. It was very warm. The sun slowly set through the heat and the dust of the afternoon; the shadow of the wall grew long across the ground.
I slept, but I did not rest. All the while, above me on the wall, perched a flock of flightless birds. How could a flock of flightless birds come to be perched high atop a ten foot wall? Yes. Ask the question. It is one of the many questions that remain unanswered, and largely unasked. The Median media is silent and there are few who will listen to angels in disguise or to men of disrepute.
Their warm droppings fell into my eyes as I slept, into my uncovered eyes. I was not aware of the birds, did not hear their chirping chatter, did not smell their dripping feces. Their droppings contained no smelly protein sulfides and there is no fermentation in the birds’ guts. Coprophagia is rare among birds (unlike mammals including dogs and some humans) so there is little reason for these particular bird droppings to have had a foul odor. Yet I wonder: these droppings were unusual in every other regard-so why did they have no odor, no alerting scent? Another unasked and unanswered question that will only be ignored and forgotten.
The white droppings of this flightless flock of birds perched upon my wall were rich in fertilizing nitrogen, but my eyes are not fields and there will be no harvest. If that were all I may have retained my vision, but there was something worse: Microplasma Fravishivirus is what they call it-or, rather, what they don’t call it, because they will neither confirm nor deny anything that is developed in their pharmaceutical kingdom of darkness. This virus does not exist, except in isolated outbreaks, purposefully unleashed and carefully contained to limit the exposure. They would not want to initiate the eschaton too soon. They are careful and meticulous about these things.
And what is even more: as I slept they (either the birds or their trainers, I do not know, for the fowlers are just as foul as their noxious plague-work) sprayed me with an odorless chemical solvent known as Spectrazinomaldehyde-a toxic brew of Diazinon, Benzene, and other complex Carbon chains. When the vomiting and vertigo passed and my blood pressure stabilized, when the anxiety receded and my body temperature leveled out, I was left with a burning film in my eyes and white, waxy scales encrusted my eye sockets. I was blind.
My wife found me screaming and crawling in the dirt, and vomit, and enuresis. She rushed me to the hospital where I was treated by a team of doctors and specialists who, in the end, could do (or would do) me no good. Yes, they applied ointments and salves and they dutifully dusted my lemon soured eyes with sweet, pink powders and, for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of light. But there was nothing but darkness.
All my life on paths of quiet patience…
I eat my food in sorrow and in silence.
I wash.
I remember the prophets.
I remember all your songs.
THE PATIENT presented Monday, May 16, 2016 (the day after Pentecost) with sudden, acute loss of vison. Opacification of the normally translucent structures of the eyes caused by contamination of unknown foreign substance. Has he no fear? Is he not hunted and haunted and hated? The REPORTS of flies and plagues and biohazard may be unwarranted, but we remain skeptical of his claims. Flightless birds and conspiratorial attacks in the night... Soon he will be raving about river monster and demonic attacks. This is all too much. Let his property be seized as payment, and banish the patient.
And then, when the work was done, the dirt replaced, I sat to rest-for it was hot and I was worn. I tried to rest, but as they say, and again I agree, “there is no rest for the weary.” I sat in the courtyard, now cemetery, with my back against the wall. I removed my gas mask to sleep with my back against the wall and my face uncovered. It was very warm. The sun slowly set through the heat and the dust of the afternoon; the shadow of the wall grew long across the ground.
I slept, but I did not rest. All the while, above me on the wall, perched a flock of flightless birds. How could a flock of flightless birds come to be perched high atop a ten foot wall? Yes. Ask the question. It is one of the many questions that remain unanswered, and largely unasked. The Median media is silent and there are few who will listen to angels in disguise or to men of disrepute.
Their warm droppings fell into my eyes as I slept, into my uncovered eyes. I was not aware of the birds, did not hear their chirping chatter, did not smell their dripping feces. Their droppings contained no smelly protein sulfides and there is no fermentation in the birds’ guts. Coprophagia is rare among birds (unlike mammals including dogs and some humans) so there is little reason for these particular bird droppings to have had a foul odor. Yet I wonder: these droppings were unusual in every other regard-so why did they have no odor, no alerting scent? Another unasked and unanswered question that will only be ignored and forgotten.
The white droppings of this flightless flock of birds perched upon my wall were rich in fertilizing nitrogen, but my eyes are not fields and there will be no harvest. If that were all I may have retained my vision, but there was something worse: Microplasma Fravishivirus is what they call it-or, rather, what they don’t call it, because they will neither confirm nor deny anything that is developed in their pharmaceutical kingdom of darkness. This virus does not exist, except in isolated outbreaks, purposefully unleashed and carefully contained to limit the exposure. They would not want to initiate the eschaton too soon. They are careful and meticulous about these things.
And what is even more: as I slept they (either the birds or their trainers, I do not know, for the fowlers are just as foul as their noxious plague-work) sprayed me with an odorless chemical solvent known as Spectrazinomaldehyde-a toxic brew of Diazinon, Benzene, and other complex Carbon chains. When the vomiting and vertigo passed and my blood pressure stabilized, when the anxiety receded and my body temperature leveled out, I was left with a burning film in my eyes and white, waxy scales encrusted my eye sockets. I was blind.
My wife found me screaming and crawling in the dirt, and vomit, and enuresis. She rushed me to the hospital where I was treated by a team of doctors and specialists who, in the end, could do (or would do) me no good. Yes, they applied ointments and salves and they dutifully dusted my lemon soured eyes with sweet, pink powders and, for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of light. But there was nothing but darkness.
All my life on paths of quiet patience…
I eat my food in sorrow and in silence.
I wash.
I remember the prophets.
I remember all your songs.
THE PATIENT presented Monday, May 16, 2016 (the day after Pentecost) with sudden, acute loss of vison. Opacification of the normally translucent structures of the eyes caused by contamination of unknown foreign substance. Has he no fear? Is he not hunted and haunted and hated? The REPORTS of flies and plagues and biohazard may be unwarranted, but we remain skeptical of his claims. Flightless birds and conspiratorial attacks in the night... Soon he will be raving about river monster and demonic attacks. This is all too much. Let his property be seized as payment, and banish the patient.
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