by Tom H. Brooks 3

A man awoke one day, feeling worse than usual…
  He shuffled to the bathroom mirror and looked deeply into his own tired and bloodshot eyes-tired, because they had seen so much, too much of everything.  The same sad stories and faces and places-death and tragedy all around, and the calm acceptance that fighting the inevitable was futile.  His skin was blotchy red with rashy patches that began to look like boils.  He went to scratch at his face and it peeled off beneath his fingers like an overripe banana.  The layers of skin folded away the mask of humanity to reveal the primitive bare bones of existence and a faceless skull beneath…terrifying, yet horribly fascinating, his flesh began to fall away in strips of its own accord.  He watched, hypnotized, as a hole appeared in his chest cavity, revealing the ribcage,  sternum, and what should be guts.  His innards had already dried within and had the appearance of dead leaves on the dirty ground.
His bones began to become frail and brittle. His leg broke in half and he crashed to the floor.  It was all happening so fast and suddenly.  He raised a skeletal arm in front of his skull face, touched what was left of his mouth and his lower jaw came off in his bony hand,
like a nightmare, but terribly, terribly real.  He was now nothing but a skull sitting atop a pile of mouldering dry and dusty bones, fully aware of his predicament, but helpless to change it.  Mercifully (or maybe not), at that moment, he went blind as his eyes sunk into the hollows of his black hole skull.
There was nothing left to feel but the forbidding sensation of his own final and ultimate disintegration…
 (The above digital artwork is named Ghosts…)

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