You name it...

Lost in the dead mans dream of trying to filter himself from the earth. Thinking every piece of gold jewel is him discarding everything else as shallow earth. Differentiate, segregate, differentiate until grains of sand are not without abandon.
No I do not want you comfortable in your skin, how else would I get you to do these depraved things you do for me?
Sift and sort, tireless, closer but not quite.
Not seeing the flaw as the diamond, too dark, too dark to see, no... no... I cannot be free. Pace.
Fearing he hears the sound of his heart beating he picks up the crimson stick to orchestrate his cacophonic symphony.
You, you, you are not alive; you, you can't even cry; you, you are empty inside.
Ahhhh yes, that is better. I must get back to my work.