I wander, under the hands of an unbearable famish, through a neverending path, seeking for aliment, guided by my gut. By my love. By my desire of fulfilling a simple need. My feet does not boil, does not hurt. My larvae body grew a thousand legs that bears a gigantic weight. By I only march forward. My gut burps the way. I follow. A light-blue God, nailed to a cross, condemned by us, to live eternally suffering for not being enough to us. Four gold nails immobilize him. A bolus of our greed asphyxiates him, making him die over and over again. He, neverthless, will not have ever that delight. He won't reach death. Death does not want him in his arms. So I wander. I walk. I see. I smell. But I can't reach neither. Your gift for me, to never be able to finish anything. To suffer it all. But to keep on going through eternity.