Beast heart. Packet of crisps and a smoke. A blink of the eyes and I come alive in your image. And then a field someplace. And then a road that cuts through the country that takes us to a forest where the animals play as if death were just some manmade invention and the end had no meaning to them at all. Give me a drink. Give me some acknowledgement that my words do something to you. Hey, let’s take our clothes off and pretend we’re beetles. Or earwigs, yeah? Or the worms with legs that make my balls shrink whenever one comes into view. Place a blanket down on the ground. Pull me close and make me the centre of your world. Do some witchy shit that shows me how we’re soulmates and were always meant to come together despite what the world and its dreary lover has to say. When it suits them, everyone believes they have a voice, and yet the second they have to fight for it, they turn their backs and run. Let them run, girl. Let them go the way of so many others who embraced obscurity as it were a charmed state of being. And that’s what happens. If you don’t stand up and speak your truth, life will forget you, and when you die, your death won’t touch anyone save for those who aren’t worth remembering either. So look me in the eye. Feed me biscuits and then toss the crumbs to the ground so all the small animals can sleep safe and sound with full bellies. These beautiful things. Your beautiful smile. They tell you that this isn’t what we’re here for, but that’s because they’re afraid we’re onto something. They don’t like us drifting because to drift means we have no need for the crowd, and those that have no need for the crowd are dangerous. So come close. A little closer. Lay with me and pray with me. Let’s sleep in the rain and stay awake all through the night gazing up and counting the black holes that shine in our sky.