the zonked, yellowing alien

Fuck, I don’t know why I’m taking it so badly.

It was merely a remark.

I’ve been proving you right all this while, haven’t I?

Please, please just stop saying that I don’t know which side my bread is buttered on.

Filled with an emotion too intense, too precious to be reduced to a single word.

A savage need.

Paradise is nothing more than a boundless sweep of blue water and blue sky. A vast, empty world.

I don’t intend to make things clearer.

N.B. I don’t like buttered bread.

You’ll never know.