Oh man, you've never read Nabokov? Do I have an annotated Lolita for you.

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff, and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.
And from the inside too, I'd duplicate
Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:
Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass
Hang all the furniture above the grass

Etc. to 999 lines...