He who is not busy being born is busy dying.

Bob Dylan

It’s funny how Alex died. Don’t get me wrong he did not lose his life, he simply died a monotonous, cliche and stale death just like the zombie sitting next to you.

The somber hymns ” Wamlambez” and “Pekejeng” Sailed through the air as the woman next to his body cried. Her tears came through her mouth in a mixture of something that contains 40% alcohol with food platelets. She was in the process of dying too.

Alex’s death was gradual and highly unnoticeable to the naked eye. He wore his face like make up: his charm was his foundation and sarcasm his concealer while using stories of fictional characters as ponds.

His bottled up emotions and feelings started to ferment in his chest sending toxins through out his body eating him up like a cancer on gear…