I cannot spell what I will not feel; ragge, angrr, feer, sadd, greefe; languages cannot will what the body, an article before faith, seals in a false heart, sort of a hollow leg, where extra feelings from an unthinking feast cascade together, racing the day I die to win the contest I've set up. Never feel, suppress, tell no one, for I haven't merely lost, I am as such, without bearing to fixed humans, covered in darkness in the middle of this day.