Froth and rupture. Our minds pillage themselves. New colors marble through the veins of our principles. Our hair slides out. Our skin slips. The maggots feed on us and squirm away to make their own code.

We’d turned rotten is all. Autolysis and putrefaction. Our morals were breaking themselves down. Blistering. They were aided by the outside world that hunted out any point of weakness to feed on. Bloating. All that integrity burglarized by blow-flies and filched by gut flora. A vibrant person will rebuild herself. Only the dead break down.