Dialogue with a Fish

Your skin has become dry but still sparkling, motionless like a dead tree in the middle of an inert desert, staring at me with your big, protruding eyes.
How long has it been? Good question.
The confines of this cell have removed any notion of seconds, minutes, night or sobriety.
The Queen has been warned. She has not yet answered, but soon I will know more. Whether in death or in the hourglass that still flows, I will walk without ever perjuring and I will tell well, yes my dear and weight on the word well, profusion, in abundance, great, diabolically and so much more... savor!
Do you think flies remember the landscapes they’ve tasted?
What a dead end, I’m settling but what can I say, I’m dying!
Let the bells ring and let the guest be swallowed up so that others, with their superfluous beliefs, fall asleep and shine their virtue.