He felt like a free-standing tumor that, having completely devoured its host, now lacked the energy necessary to expire, and just went on and on and on, moving from room to room, brushing against objects, swaying a little from side to side but never falling, never building up the required momentum to topple over and break itself to pieces on the polished hardwood floor of the dining room of its parents' semi-detached suburban home. I have no mouth and I must apply for jobseeker's allowance, he thought, allusively.