Large Intestine

Look in the mirror. Let us both look. Here is my naked body. Apparently you like it, I have no reason to. Who bound us, me and my body? Why must I die together with it? I have the right to know where the borderline between us is drawn. Where am I, I, I myself. Belly, am I in the belly? In the intestines? In the hollow of the sex? In a toe? Apparently in the brain. I do not see it. Take my brain out of my skull. I have the right to see myself. Don’t laugh. That’s macabre, you say. It’s not me who made my body. I wear the used rags of my family, an alien brain, fruit of chance, hair after my grandmother, the nose glued together from a few dead noses. What do I have in common with all that? What do I have in common with you, who like my knee, what is my knee to me? Surely I would have chosen a different model. I will leave both of you here, my knee and you. Don’t make a wry face, I will leave you all my body to play with. And I will go. There is no place for me here, in this blind darkness waiting for corruption. I will run out, I will race away from myself. I will look for myself running like crazy till my last breath. One must hurry before death comes. For by then like a dog jerked by its chain I will have to return into this stridently suffering body. To go through the last most strident ceremony of the body. Defeated by the body, slowly annihilated because of the body I will become kidney failure or the gangrene of the large intestine. And I will expire in shame. And the universe will expire with me, reduced as it is to a kidney failure and the gangrene of the large intestine.