The dead say eliminate . . . get things out.
Don’t contain things.
The dead desire the stages of beauty only the living have.
The dead are here to destroy your life.
They’ll come through tumors and alcohol and groupthink.
They want you out so they can come back in and party.
The dead say find out or die.
And die anyway.
Experience or don’t.
The dead will collect you one day.
They want a taste of your tea.
They desire your head on a platter, but not in that way.
They want you thinking out loud and making grand foolery of your words.
The dead will burn down everything in anticipation of some larger force freezing it all.
The dead are largely spiteful.
