Crawling in thirst upon the edge of a vast and barren shoreline/The spines of a hundred keels arrayed in supplicant posture/A receded mirror curdled in our noxious reflection/There has been no water here for many lifetimes/A trail of vermillion blooms in the dust weave toward the skyline/A bloody skin and a line of tracks in the unblinking salt/This wretched dismal hole of man forever warring/Each screaming, lonesome birth a fistful of windblown sand/A brazen bull/Victim and torturer/Mouth full of blood/Lungs full of ash/Whirling—writhing—crushing—joining/A squirming mass of dogs/Their jaws locked around each other’s throat/A hydra with ten billion faces/Ripping at its own belly, clutching its adversary till its last breath is crushed out of its entrails/The sins of the father visited tenfold upon the son/Let them speak of you: “Rejoice, for he has wrought this world’s cremation.”
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"Hell has no limits, nor is circumscribed; for where we are is Hell, and where Hell is, there we must be."
