Last Night You Came Back, and you said you were feeling so much better. Your feet were torn in two, and your bowels were hanging from your mouth. Your face was rotting, and I was afraid of you, come back from the dead to ask if you could rejoin us now, and you didn't die after all, it just kept rotting you away, and it had only appeared to us that you had died and destruction stopped-no instead you had been taken, you had been taken somewhere else and no one knew not even you, but you stood in the room saying, "But, Look! I'm so much better," and you frightened me because I knew then that you could never come back to the land of the living, but that you were condemned to live in the land of the dead forever, in the colony of lepers that would have you, you so frightening to behold... Then our father came into the room with a large black dog, said, "I've got to take the dog for a walk now," to send you back to the grave where you really live now, he was surpised that you had the temerity to try and rejoin the healthy, and then I saw you leave us through the garden, your head bent down, crying softly, and then I awoke to a horror much greater than ever before because there is no peace where you are dead, not for you and not for me, never, never anything but sadness, and we will never never never never never never be happy, ever again.
