Everything in my body, everything in my taste buds. Everything in my brain is saying, don’t drink this.
I really shouldn’t be drinking this, I know that. This is straight poison, nothing else.
Do you think Livia wants to poison us? Did she want to kill us?
Deep foulness. It can’t get any worse, can it? This can’t be good for us, can it?
Ah, the lessons of vileness. Like we actually need to become more Gnostic.
We’re abasing ourselves, as usual.
Livia’s abasing us. From a distance. From wherever she is.
We’re pushing abasement to the max. Defilement. But why? What’s it for?
It’s a joke – don’t you see? Livia’s joke. That we would look to the disgusting for salvation. The joke’s on us. On you, anyway – on you guys. Who are just Livia’s … imitators. Her fan boys and girls.
I’m not drinking this, and nor should you. Look at you all, passing round the bottle. Can’t you be your own people?
What are we tasting?
General putrescence. Rotting.
The rotting of what?
I don’t know … the universe.
Inside the horror: that’s where she wants to put us. We’re drinking from inside the horror.
Work in Progress 