When We Die

When we die, we float outwards but there is nothing around us to protect us from ourselves: no light, no smell, no sound, no touch, no heat nor cold. No sleep either (nor drinking, laughing, coughing, getting drunk, blabbing with friends). We become a cottony ball of self that wanders about a nothingness in space complete, and there is nothing to keep us from our thoughts and thoughts (and thoughts) ... which do go on.
No sleep, no solitary drinking, no pills, no work, no diversions at all. Since we can't kill ourselves (we're already dead) we are left with our bobbling thoughts twenty-four hours (even though there are no more hours) days weeks years and years (even though there are no more days weeks years). No distractions in our new senseless world.
We are free to go mad (without eyes or hands or body to show madness) or to scream or yell or rave (without a voice,no ears around to hear) or to weep (no tears for they took our lachrymal glands). No drink nor pills nor company (nor hope of an ever ending), nothing to take the worst of it away from us alone. We are free to do anything we must, but there is no one to do it with, no one to commiserate with us except our own voice in our own head (which now no longer exists) caught alone floating alone in a gray/white no space mist.