I fell to earth naked, like a stone, like a bird that had forgotten to fly, like some sort of pervert who had very confusing personal relationship with gravity. 

I fell to earth naked, and had to start running. I didn’t know what else to do. I had limbs that felt broken, shattered. I had a spine that lunged about my back like a bunch of broken springs. Yet I had to run.

The roadway cut at my feet. The sun burnt at my back. Little children threw rocks and old ladies spat as I went past. I dripped blood the colour of sickened limes, and I coughed up lumps of grey-red matter that looked a little like garden slugs. 

The authorities wanted to stop me, but I kept forcing one foot before the other. There were those who wanted to be my lovers; the young women and men who trailed behind me hurling condoms and compliments in my direction. 

If I could’ve stopped, I would’ve laid down and died. If there’d been a way to hold myself back, I’d have submitted to inertia and crashed to a halt.

But I can’t seem to stop. I can’t seem to slow down. I’ve crashed down to the earth, and now I have to keep up with the wind. 

Everything else is just dust in the air behind me.