Super

You have no discernible shape. You are all pulsating gray matter and no body. I want to give you form. I want to give you a frame from which to hang your sentiment and shame. You rise and roll right up over me. No string, no tail. Nothing to grab onto at all. My hand passes through you when I try to hold on. You are The Astounding Stratus Boy. Super, you are. I can see straight on to the neverlasting.