the severed head

This Body is scrambling for a sense of worth, identity, and purpose. Sometimes fiery, sometimes skiddish, but more often than not, clueless. This body is running, but weak. Its circulation is limited and limbs are going numb while major organs are failing. Its a sad sight. Too much for the weak stomached, this pain is loud and the stench offensive.
Where is the Head? How was it lost? Was it stolen or strategically removed? It is one of the heaviest of all the Body parts…perhaps the other parts felt it was weighing them down. No wonder there is no true order, no fresh ideas, no stability. Its no wonder. We’ve lost our mind and need to come to our senses…oh wait there’s no way to calculate or understand them. We’ve lost our sight, our hearing and our voice. We have no memory, no intuition. We run cold. We run without direction. We run pale and dumb. But none the less, we run…but never to the Head. Never ever to the Head. Strange.

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