Why do you do this to the dead? Why do you scribble the sanguine parentheses while eating your unconscious fill? Why do you trance your way through the swamp of decayed and forgotten vegetables? Once I had sixteen fillets of carp flesh which I transmuted into gold while reciting this backwater anthem. Who do you think you are? Touching me from the inside… You are the unwelcome guest gone too soon. Please bring the prickly diamond back to me and force it down my dripping throat. You must flow out from the source—the great tree demands it. Please do not disobey the urgings of the sad metallic wunderkind. A wooden egg in the shape of a triangle calls and beckons to you. Will you not answer? Will you not plead? Will you not dance among the discarded asparagus and dust mites? I love you, though I know not what you are.