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Oh my dear I know too much of this work is a boring waste and the chores that we do go on and on but in the dark we felt a spook in our midst and we clapped on the lights and blasted flashbulbs with our sights set under the world and all we had missed and did you blink when you saw I was backlit by Ra? I'm a cephalophore! I'm a statue of lead! And I'm losing my head.
The animations laugh, asking: where's your fancy stuff? It's in those old faded photographs you had snapped of me secretly. Was that a threat? Is this a ghost lurking behind us out to terrify or shock or blind us like the blessed sacraments of our heliocentric masters do? I know it's true! I'm sure it's true!
There's a little bit of light coming out of you. You're giving off a bit of light worth a watt or two and it'll eat at you until you scream your lungs out at a photographer. Don't dwell on fame whatever you do. Call out the bugger who is driven by deadlines. It's so right that a letter is a better way to put a hex on your youth; never send a letter to a trapper running his lies. Why can't I breathe? Why can't I speak? Why can't a trapper castrate a city set upon the twigs and leaves? Set the traps to gleam in their eyes!
…Is this a ghost lurking behind us with knife in phantom limb to slice our throat and bleed us dry just like the blessed sacraments of our heliocentric masters do? I sure it's true! I know it's true!
"There's a little bit of light coming out of you. You're giving off a bit of light worth a watt or two."