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this unbroken cross, mother, this sight. wretched old me, unpalatable, i am nudging at you with my feet under the satin cover of the table, you are disturbed. the fish gapes at me with all its eyes and you sigh. wretched old you, unpalatable.
but now i have eaten you too, mother. this dream of yours. cradle robbing your dream, your baby, you. you must love me now, it is an imperative. the number one rule in your rule book.
look at me, do you see me, i am beautiful now, i am the one you wanted, with my grin and your teeth all serrated and my bloody bleeding chest.
i am the dog you wanted, you must love me.
the fish gapes at me with all its yellow eyes, i have eaten more than you. there is an empty chair at the table. i push my leftovers to you but you do not take it. ah, ah, denji, you say. you're being selfish again? but you would never say that, not you now, not your black hair and sulky lips and the charred way you look at the corpse i have made of all our bodies. i am screaming for you, mother, where are you? look at me! i am your martyr now, full, full of heart, licking it off my lips, the heart you told me i had. i am burning on the cross, i am your perfect vessel. and there is the fish, crumbling into morsels on the table.
where are you, mother? you're not eating.