...It makes me self-centered. This parasite hitching a ride inside. The content of my next...meal...crumbs, consumes my intelligence and people stop listening. I have nothing of substance to say and my body s l o w s right down. Sure I'm still good in bed cos you can throw me about but my eyes lack the nutrients needed to keep them alive. Maybe that doesn't matter. The kitchen calls with savoury cries to the gut. Too late for me to back down from this dare, this death is mine. Obsession and control. You get yours. Sister don't follow me this time.