I wish to look like a human, stuck in sand, knee deep, and a bog sinking in my mouth... To never bend over again, and yet fight the gravity that pulls at my bones.

I hope to see the pain of a thousand tortured. To endure the last heart beats murmured for the rest of existence.

I want to die for the sins that you have created. The sins that manifest stories upon stories. The kind of tales only the bravest would shead tears for.

I need to see the world at its most cumbersome moment. To live amongst the beauty we all try to shield with billboards and radio stations.

I wish to keep my mind to myself. To never have it purged upon your awakening. The awakening leading to my death for your oven fresh sins.

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