This whole life, it's merely the process of digestion, closer to beasts than the heavens, and never greater than the world, just a plant that has been nurtured, to bear a fruit, a moment later, so many feelings, it has matured, and as we speak, it’s already being eaten, so many eternities, reborn, only to discover I'm a virgin, consumed each life, an eternal fruit, conflicted with my own disease, and all my delusions, they bore so much life, so many emotions, decay and death, hope and entropy, we can live all sorts of life, but checkmate after checkmate, we’ll still be in a prison, bound by DNA, and contracts in the sand, a willful poet, and a tarot reader, he spoke so much crap, so arrogant, he can only be a fool, dreaming of the impossible, yearning for love and heaven, something real, maybe evolution, so many dreams, and so much death, his blood, splattered on the walls, and tainting his prison, did he really think he could escape, that he could consume a virgin, all that he was good for, already dead, just a fruit, that the heavens continue eating…

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