There are pieces. Bitter, metallic, never leaving my mouth. Vultures eat dead things. So I invite them into my mouth. If no one cleans it up, disease will spread. A couple deaths have already happened. Damage control is needed. We can’t reverse it.

“Will it come alive if you vomit it up?” I asked the vultures once.

“No. What’s dead is dead,” they said. “It would be even more dead after getting into our stomachs going through the acids.”

“Even more dead?”

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“Even more dead. Seen to the end properly. The death will be complete.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I let them fly into me, and they flock around the dead parts. I can’t do anything while they’re doing this. But it’s okay, I’ll let them take their time. It happens sometimes, incidents like these deaths. They’ll never be reversed. Every step forward means taking a risk. Every step forward is a step that can’t be taken back. So if it goes wrong…

I feel the vultures pecking away at the decay. What else is there to do? My mouth will be free of the dead soon. Maybe more death will come later, because it always does, but after this is done…

Vultures peck. Vultures peck. I don’t know. Vultures peck. I can’t think till my mouth is clean, I can’t think till my mind is free. Vultures peck. Vultures peck. Nothing in my brain. Vultures peck. Soon they’ll be done, they go on.