Body

As I look across the valley I can see the wind ruffling my hair. Swinging in the March breeze, hung from the neck, I see a body limp and raggedy, urine stained and empty of life. Around the circling swaying body stand a number of heavily wrapped individuals. Covered up against the unseasonally cold weather with only their eyes peering out towards the dead deed lingering on the hastily constructed gallows. From a twisted contrived bending crumpled ancient hawthorn the body swings pendulous; marking the passing of life and the gathering of the dusk. They start to drift away, leaving the empty shell as a warning for any others who pass this way of the punishments and summary justices preserving their society; but I am now free. Singular and discorporated. My body no longer the chain binding me to the corrupt and insidiously moralising society that only spoke to me through broken teeth with blackened bile dribbling from the whimsical, half smirking, sinister lips.