Serious

Are you serious? we asked after we finished a series of questions about his health. He said his heart never felt better, but we could see it was a Valentine poked by a bleeding arrow. He said his lungs breathed properly, but we could hear the wheezing from across the State. He said his feet never disobeyed him, but we had tracked his sleepwalking steps into strangers' homes. He said his nose smelled everything he wanted, but we sprayed pepper in his face and he didn't sneeze. He said his eyes looked at the world, but we knew he'd been blind to the truth from birth. He said his brain his never failed him, but we could see the word "empty" glowing between his ears. He told us he was serious, that his body operated like a machine, one without spare parts, one without illusions, one that understood this would be the last time it lived.