Death takes, even if we do not give. So why give. Death, with its cheap watch that has a broken alarm. Death, with a notepad full of icons and documents on the desktop, with sheaves of fraying papers falling out of a binder, saved by its bony hands. Death comes; when, where absolutely lost in those shuffled pages. But it takes, even if you give yourself willingly, if you welcome it with open arms, if you use it, or if you hide yourself in a cage in some far-off island. Death will take as the alarm rings. And in that space that was yours, it leaves only one thing. A void. A void that the world will fill with whatever the hell it wants. Plastic cups, empty packets – trash; and all the emotions that have only a hole to go into. So why give. So why give. Give to me instead, all that burns you and all that makes you tired. Give to those that will try to fill the void but cannot. At least we can give back. Death is only a taker, my friend. You need givers.