I see the ships stirring in the distance. I see the ships setting sail for business. I see the ships transporting the sickness. I’ve been assigned to deliver the package. But what’s inside this box, I have to know. Curiosity bubbling to the point of… no, no I can’t open it. I got to deliver this package to the subconscious mind and everybody will find a way to my insides through my eyes.

And they’ll see the tree roots spew out my mouth as they talk of the legend of the things from the south. As they talk of the legend of the things from the south - roots coming out my mouth. They’re ripping from my sides. You see wood coming out my ears and my nails tearing off. Out my sockets the blood to sap and everything is growing inside me. 

I’m becoming a tree; pseudo-science metaphysicality. With trunks created, sprouting leaves, I’m becoming a tree.

With my roots firmly implanted in the soil, I’ve grown to the highest treetops to see my brothers looking out. I see my brothers looking back, back at me and judging all my leaves. They’re judging all my leaves. I’m a tree-man body.

I’m changing before your eyes. Can you see my epidermis as it turns to bark? Oh, it’s turning to bark - it’s getting harder. And the deer consume me and they’ll rip off pieces to eat. Come and rip off pieces to eat until I’m bare as the day I was born. Until I’m naked in front of my brothers; In front of myself. Can you see my leaves as they wilt? 

This is the language of leaves. They’ll find you with strawberries in your teeth, stirring the tops of my trees.

I was a human being, don’t you see, but now I’m nothing but a dead old fucking tree.