i'll read them someday

yes, i say, but not soon.
after i die? you want to know.
not then, that is not soon enough. then, because i am prone to capricious acts, i would cut myself dead just that i may be buried and crawl through the dirt to contest. gnash my dead teeth heave my dead body, worm-like through the dirt and yell into your dead ear, the dead hole in your head where your ear once was: listen to me now, like you never listened while you were alive, you selfish jerk bastard.
i'd do it, i tell you, i really would.