I want this moment in its entirety. I want this moment to condense into a shower of liquid which I can then absorb into the pores of my skin and even deeper than that so that it soaks into the marrow of my bones. I want this moment to be plastered over the bedroom walls of every angst-ridden teenager in place of genre-appropriate bands and ephemera. I want this moment to be processed into an expensive skin cream in a container with a twist-top lid which I can rub over every square millimetre of my body. I want this moment to sew itself into a full-body suit with a thread count so high that neither air nor sound nor light can pass through, then I will wear this forever. I want this moment to replace all of my vital organs so that I will rely on this moment to keep me living for however long. I want this moment to replace the sound of a heartbeat. I want this moment to be playing on a projector screen at my funeral and a DVD of the moment to be placed in my coffin. I want this moment to be photographed and for those photographs to be burnt to ash which I will then snort using rolled-up, limited-edition 500 dollar notes made in celebration of this moment. I want this moment to be digitally captured and then printed out, the printed image put through a paper shredder, then I want to eat the moment, once digitised, now shredded, in an assemblage not unlike a bowl of plain spaghetti. I want this moment to be seen only in complete darkness and complete light and everything in between. I want this moment to be a recurring dream that I never wake up from. I want this moment to be depicted in every cloud and every constellation and every fatefully arranged bird shit streak on the sidewalk. I want this moment to replace film and television and books and the internet and maybe even more than the internet if that is possible. I want this moment to become a tumor that grows from my frontal lobe until it gets so big that it pushes up against my eyes and I am blind save for seeing this moment. I want this moment to replace what my piss smells like. I want this moment to be every prayer and every song ever uttered or sung. I want this moment to be interrupted by an atom bomb explosion so that when I close my eyes the image of this moment is burned in shadow across my cornea and also across the walls and the ceiling and the floor in the places where people and things and I once stood.
I want this moment.
