Dialogue with a Fish

Your skin has become dry but still shiny, still like a dead tree in the middle of a lifeless desert, you stare at me with your big bulging eyes.
How much time has passed? Good question.
The confines of this cell have removed any notion of seconds, minutes, night, or sobriety.
The queen has been notified. She hasn't responded yet, but I'll know more soon. Whether in death or in the still-flowing hourglass, I will walk without ever again forswearing, and I will tell the story well, yes, my dear, and I weigh the word well, in abundance, in abundance, in abundance, diabolically, and so much more... savor!
Do you think flies remember the landscapes they have tasted?
What a dead end, I'm settling but what can I say, I'm dying!
Let the bells ring and the guest be swallowed up so that the others, with their superfluous beliefs, can fall asleep and polish their virtue.