Shall we dance..?

Oh lordy.

I dance alone.

And why not? We live as we die, alone. And so I dance.

But do I deserve you, really? What have I ever done for you? Maybe in the past I came here for comfort. Maybe I conveyed a glamour to the grime of my life, maybe the O lay a soporific haze over all my crimes, did it? No more, no. I am clean now a year and half. Clean as a whistle, clear as a bell. Lithe, erect. My bowels? Definitive. Libidinally insane. And me, nearly fifty!  And yet, is that not the age for truth? Because this is what this is: one last assault on my life and I am here for the truth, nothing less. And so if I ask of your time, it is because I know why I am here.  Yes, I, who never believed in such a thing. Who saw reservoirs of falsehood and knew them to be the better places rather than the grimy taps of truth. Yes, me, me! I am here, buckled under that rusting tap, straining for a single drop, before it's all too late. So bear with me, one last time, if you will.

And if you won't, no matter.

We all deserve what we get, precisely.

I hear Gareth, the scrape of his chair.

Has nothing changed?

Plenty.