(the words of a character in the unpublished short story, The Paranoid)
Beautiful corpse, beloved Mother of Creation, you are lovelier than life itself; Lilliputian perfection and little woman of grace, celestial creature and beloved lover, you are my exquisite corpse.
Beautiful corpse, I kiss your cold face and brush against a vast emptiness, a chilling Void. I kiss your vacant face. But you’re not there. I disappear inside your nothingness. Yet when I kiss your majestic mask of death, I become one with you, Mother of Creation, my lover. When I kiss your celestial face, I fall in love forever.
Beautiful corpse, Mother of Creation, you are lovelier than life itself; I close my ebony eyes, kiss your ghostly image, and receive your love. Your icy lips kiss my burning face and when ice and fire meet, we bless each other.
Now, I disintegrate, dissolve, and disappear; I drift into eternity and reunite with you and the sacred earth; I receive the blessing, the bliss, and the perfect moment when we are one; a beautiful corpse in death, in dust, one.