My white-skinned sheets creak when these restless, sleepless dreams shift in their unease. My dreams find no rest. Nor do I find myself… My skin-sheets creak as the rope strangles the cleat and the throat of the hatch. My sheets groan as the pyre burns, logs and timber heaped together— and upon that blaze my guilty life is consumed, guilty of being innocent, for wishing to be sane. They creak— while I, unwillingly immolated, yield myself to the slow fire, naked, bound to a high stake, by feet and by hands, without vertigo in my soul. And I cheer the crowd as death rekindles in me and my mask falls away… Humans! Humans! Humans!
