“I remember seeing the great leader whom I had betrayed speaking to the Queen of Hell. I waved to him and he waved and said goodbye to me, I then said goodbye to him, but I do not think he heard me as my guards than pulled me back into the box, as the walls slid up from the red earth below me they struck me a fatal blow. I awoke in a box of obsidian with only a glimpse of myself before things became dark, in the first moments of fear in the acclimation to darkness I relish my time in the light. From boredom, I begin to crawl to lean against the wall, to gain my composure in the absence of light but there is none, if I wait, I will die of impoverishment, imprisoned in hell. Occasionally I find a pool of water in an abstractly designed opening in the floor, when I drink the water I feel like I have eaten the bird that never lands; perhaps it is the blood of ravens. This madness for death comes from the thirst, hunger or bashing (, smash) on the (, smash) floor or the (, smash) water’s edge…but I wake again to wander until this process repeats. I pound the floor to test it time to time, it makes no give, pounding back like a solid black slate marble. I cannot say how long this time that spans the evolution from one recognizable animal to the next ad continuum as my memory flays my consciousness.”