I died: The fact I do not deny.
Question is, how do I thinking it? I died, for fuck's sake!
A dead man don't, can't think, it's plane and simple case.
I died: A fact I now doubt.
Question is, what should I do? Now, I exist at the very least.
An alive man may do things, for it's what one's free will exist for.
So.
Without sight, without senses, only with my self and thoughts,
Will I wander this, these displaced places,
endless something, nothing and anything?
No road to walk along, no star to look out for,
No legs to walk forward, no eyes to look upward.
So,
This is how a soul is without its body.
What an afterlife it is.
How pathetic a soul without its body is.
It feels like I am a greenarse floating on the sea again.
And then,
I tripped.
'Oh, my soul has legs.'
Tumbling down some kind of rabbit hole,
I think with somewhat hysteric glee.
"Well, aren't you a funny one?"
Giggled the pale lady with black hair.