Eat my heart. Chew through my vessels. Choke on the blood. Let it pour out your mouth and fall to the ground. Then gather what remains. Bury it in your yard. Beside the tree whose leaves dry in the sun. Let it sit. Let it soak into the earth. Let the insects feast. Let the worms grow fat. Then build your house upon the remains, so you can hear every heartbeat. And tell me, what remains? And tell me, what do you crave? A house built upon flesh will never see rest. Let the pulse keep you tossing in your sleep. Let the floors echo with my heartbeat. Let it keep you up at night. You don't deserve sleep. One day sleep will come. But never will you dream. I will remember you in my dreams, while you lay awake, as insomnia eats. Everything we love comes to us in dreams. But dreaming isn't sleep when you hear a heartbeat.