I don't know how I should put what happened that led me to write Cemetery.
It may be a bit vulgar, actually.
I'd been down physically for some months, not eating well, sleeping more than was normal, going out at night, sick of people for no apparent reason.
I couldn't have an orgasm, no matter by what means.
I was somewhere in Cork at the time, when I started to be confused. I might have been feverish. I slept in a cemetery and you were in my dreams.
I believed every corpse was you or I. We talked through the ground.
I was picked up by police.
You stayed with me for months after, like I'd found my way to you.
I wanted to keep some of the mud mixed with my semen, but the police dragged me up by my elbows as I was trying to stuff it into my pocket.
I can't believe I just said that.
No one knows that.