I understand that often only the dead impress the living. I am dead, then. I do not want to participate in a living I do not call life. I want to kiss the lips of whomever I see next. I want to wake up and dance while making bread. I want to roam the skies. I want to travel in time. I want to wear nothing but the emperor's new clothes. I want to hold a pen in my mouth, my ear, or my hand. I want to swoon. I want to sing. I want to drink. I want to curse. I want to fuck. I do not want these things to be set aside for evenings or weekends. I want them to be spontaneous. I would fear that if they were frequent they would lose their significance. I know that because they are significant, they would never be unfantastic. I want to embrace you.