We haven’t fallen far enough, not yet. There’s farther to go.
How can there be any farther to go?
The process isn’t complete – the dreadful process. Can’t you feel it – a kind of pressure in the air? A crushing, in the air? Can’t you discern it – a horror in the air?
We’re sinking somehow. We’re … getting lower. It’s making us kneel, this pressure. It’s making us get down on our knees.
It’s all too disgusting for us. It’s all so overwhelmingly disgusting. Worse than before – much worse.
It’s all too horrifying! It’s all too dreadful!
How can we survive this? But we haven’t survived. We’ve already gone under. In another life, in a real life, we’re already dead. We’ve already been murdered. We’re already killed.
In another life, in our real lives, we’ve been buried deep. We rest in our graves. No – we were cremated. We were all burnt up. But here – in this fake life?
Work in Progress 