Death rapes me every night, visiting me more than once a day. Every time death approaches me, I leave my body to it and don't resist. It toys with my soul and plays with it until it gets tired of playing with me and leaves me for a new appointment. I think about who will come and save me from this maelstrom of death, who will be able to coexist with the smell of death that emanates from my tiny pores, who will be able to curb the resounding voice of death inside my head, who will rescue me from its abyss that is about to finish me off and tear me apart. I think and think and think without satisfactory answers or convincing results, so I spin in the mill of thoughts and get lost in the corridors of questions