The smell of death

I don’t find it healthy, you know? Bearing through it all and one day, one apparently normal day, waking up to a totally new reality. It tends to be beautiful in the beginning, right? Milk and honey as they say and oh, so it tastes. Luring and deceiving and you love it. But you get this gut feeling that the milk is surely rotten. Its smell is not even of something old that should be thrown away, but of thousands of dead bodies climbing up from the abyss trying to get to you. It hurts, it’s scary, poisoned, harmful. It’s like you actually came to the point when you don’t just smell the bodies, the death coming for you, but you see it all. Yet you can’t stop. You keep going, you keep eating that honey, you keep on drinking that rotten milk. Feeling a desperate need, thinking that maybe it will disappear but you know that by drinking, like Alice, you are just getting yourself in another problem. Still, you keep watching death in its eyes and drink. Then you know.

It disappeared. You can’t see it anymore, anything for that matter. Has the rotten milk worked? Oh, sunshine, don’t fool yourself. You know it’s not over. You just can’t see it anymore. You feel it. oh, isn’t the smell of death taking over the one of dead bodies? ‘But it’s the same’ you tell yourself. Oh, it is not. Now, since you can’t see anything anymore it’s something stonger. You can’t name it, but it is indeed stronger like nothing sensed before. You throw away the milk. Even you know it’s pointless now when you can’t see anything anymore. But oh, the smell tightenes your stomach, makes you weak, makes you wanna throw up. Dear, what can you do now? Isn’t it all too late? The smell of death takes over you and isn’t it beautiful?

Milk and honey don’t always mean paradise. Don’t drink it.

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