This is the kind of crap I write when I can’t write

It’s tearing me up inside!

From inside the man, peeled out of his skin, his heart walks out through his chest. His back is arched. His face gripped with constipation. Red, sweating, dripping down, melting into the floor. His heart walks out and runs to the door, opens it with its tiny hands.

The man opens his mouth to scream, but an arm comes out, a great arm that reaches for the heart. The door is shut now, the heart is gone. The arm leads a shoulder, a body, a head, exiting the man’s mouth.

Gurgle, gurgle, blood and spit, it rises and coughs and looks at the dead man on the floor.

It says, “That is me.” The body on the floor twitches and shakes, dries out, and is all collected from itself into a single dot that disappears into the ground.

The new man stares at this and knows he is witnessing his own death. His heart is gone and the world is gray. He opens the door and walks forth into blinding light, unsure of what is to come.

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