I don’t remember dying.
I remember close caress without hot breath,
the sudden sharp pain, swooning numbness,
taste of unsought blood, synaptic flashes.
Back in the days before, I’d had fantasies
about the experience of dying.
People die all the time. It is expected,
normal, for death to take regular sacrifice.
What final thoughts, sensations, might be
fitting on such grim occasion?
I don’t recall thinking, more like hoping
for quick release.
Too simple in my ignorance to realize
release of my old existence into this new,
undead, would not be the end my hope
desired. All that I understood then was a
transfer of allegiance.
Over so many walks through past scenes,
I find awareness. I am no slave, no dependent.
I continue neither alive nor dead. No wonder
I remember no grand transition.
Existential limbo is only half a death, neither
here nor there.
It has been a very long time now since I
encountered others of my kind.
Perhaps we are truly dying out as a class of
undead creature. More likely it is that I do not
seek such company, don’t curry or expect their
appearance. We who do not exist are not obvious.
There were times, decades, when I thought I might
belong with those others like myself. I told myself it must
be that among similar monsters I would feel at home.
We are not similar, beyond the obvious stigmata.
Like any deviant subgroup, we are each monsters
in our own fashion, diverse hideous idiosyncrasies.
Yes, some travel in packs or pairs or tribes.
I tried. I find no natural allies for long.
Perhaps gods are meddling,
taking peculiar interest, claiming my destiny.
They are jealous gods. They want me unencumbered,
that they may have free reign over my affections.
Perhaps loneliness is the ultimate labor, curriculum
of stoic purity. Perhaps only pure self confrontation
pleases these gods, prepares their slaves for
eternal service, what will come.
I think too much, feel too much, with no acceptable
escape. It doesn’t matter that no one could possibly
deserve the karma dealt me. Such theories don’t
impress my gods.