"Oh, ha, nothing like that." The poet smiles, shakes his head a little awkwardly. "I'm flesh and blood. Like you. I assume. I'm cursed, I guess you could say. Don't need to eat or drink, I don't think I even need to breathe. Don't get any older either. I can't leave, and I'm stuck here." He pauses. "Well, I was stuck somewhere else, now I'm stuck here. But I do feel hunger, it's just not really that much of a problem for me anymore-"

Oh shit. He's going to be Helped now.