Could you?

If I told you that last night I was dead and walked the earth amongst the living, murdering; that I reached into my victims' chests after a clawed punch to pull out a blood red pear that resembled soap; that I proceeded to cut this pear with my invisible knife and that despite the pear being so hard and like dry soap, there was juice running down from my mouth and also down my arms, there was juice too that had dripped from my knife's blade and ran down my leg; that I rubbed the blood on my leg into my skin and added to the blood on my face by licking up my arm, kissing my palm and sucking on each finger, would you listen to me?

If you were there the night I had to go on trial would you listen to my defence as I explained the girl had asked me to dement her, to hurt her deeply and render her hideous; that we were in love and both of us cared for no one and nothing more than each other; that in the moments that I beat her head into the ground and cut off entirely both her ears with scissors, she looked at me with the most loving eyes I or anyone had ever seen or ever will; that after I had transformed her body and the 'healing' had left her face as a little patch of struggling life peaking from behind a gape in the crinkled fabric which, with its pink corrugations, covered her skull as if wrongfully glued there, she was the happiest sole alive; that we walked together up the street and she touched her body and face with the most pleasant caress, looked up to the night sky and smiled; that when we heard I would be arrested she told me it wasn't fair and she would dispute it because she loved to feel pain and what I had done to her made her feel alive, that for once she felt meaning and for once felt complete?

If I told you all that in a language you didn't speak would you still listen?

Or if I were a piece of bark that fell from a tree right as you walked past it and I fell in such a way and got carried by the wind in such a way that I ended up hitting you and then you were to look at me, would you realise I were talking to you, would you hear me even though I clearly spoke no language, that I even made no noise, would you know I was talking to you?

Maybe if I were a tree and you were you and you sat in some 5 story library doing exam study during which you took long stretched breaks which involved nothing but you leaning back on your chair and staring absent minded, thinking absent minded and you saw me stand up as though the main gigantic purpose of me being a tree, my bustle of leaves; the green ball structured by all my branches, were my back and I had forever been crouched over, would you see me communicating with you and would you, despite feeling purpose (whether or not you actually did or didn't or do or don't) would you at least show me the purpose I deserve?