Cotard’s Syndrome: The Walking Dead

Cotard’s Syndrome

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She was fast asleep,
amidst layers of ivory tulle held together by a tight corset,
porcelain skin glistening ghostly in the dim light,

a nose peg tightly obstructing her breathing,
chest hardly heaving up and down.
She was clothed for her own funeral.

Nudging her gently, she awoke,
grabbed my hand without warning.
Are you here to take me to the other side?

I nodded, a little stunned.
I came close to her trying to feel her radial pulse.
She jerked her hand away.

You won’t find it! she said quite crossly.
Blood’s dried up a long time ago.
I approached cautiously to auscultate her heart.

She turned her torso to the other side.
Don’t! The bugs ate it all away, quite an appetite they had,
didn’t spare my brain, my lungs, my stomach too.

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I’ll just remove that nose clip. It looks quite painful, okay?
Don’t touch that! My rotting flesh stinks, she yelled, now crying,
her skin pristine.

Shhhhhh, she whispered. Did they send you here?
I need to get to the other side.
Sure, we will go together.

What’s the verdict? Why am I still here?
The bad must have outweighed the good…tell me
She laughed in a vampirish manner,

I must be immortal then, she spat out,
before crashing into a deeper slumber,
her hand in mine while the sedatives kicked in.

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