After a short restless sleepless night of pain the old man drags his breathless lifeless corpse out of a sunken bed of jagged shards of glassy thorny rocks and steel, unable to yet see or function as the classical music plays he drags his rigamortis laden corpse across the floor to prepare his coffee, as his hands shake and tremble he pours in the water and counts the scoops of grind, then after fumbling he manages to plug in the percolator and as the coffee begins to perc, he shuffles off to the toilet where in a hungerous ragging fit his bowels bellow out, in the mirror as he blankly stares into the abyss his reflection shows his greasy disheveled hair and beard, to tired to care he stumbles back to his bed, he struggles to pull on his pants then he slips on his slippers and pours a cup of coffee, he gently packs scraps of tobacco into his pipe and pulls on his coat, he steps out the door, the morning is dark cool and damp, as the world begins to wake not a single soul takes notice nor care for the horrish existence the old man is forced to endure yet another day;
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