Courting blasphemy, wretching sex. Sexed together with rope and bound, bound, bound. 'Take them', it grumbled. 'Take them'. It was obvious now. It was obvious they dragged it through the corrodor, and the planet was still spinning. Reached out a godlike hand to cradle it in the bosom of terror. The only way it can be understood is to stop asking questions. That was his original question. He was nestled in the cosmos beyond your brain. Your brain only has servos and plastic. Your brain is limited because it was never necessary to be anything more. Remember the green stones, the dust, the giants, the lurching giants, the ladders, the ropes. A slave comes to mind. See that fat priest sit there and call judgement upon the questions. Decide now what you will do and how you will do it. A preaching down the centuries, the ages, the millennia. Squeezed like a lemon, bitter and bitter and bitter. Arching up…a new colony of blasted madness. A hive with many holes…too many holes. You are the ugly bug. We are the ugly bug, joined. That moralist shows us the way, and you (they) see how a march occurs. Down the pale hallways, bald and naked. It's intense. Someone always sees from above. While they march down the hallway, you see piles of red-outlined bodies steeping in gore. What does it mean? The pale green stones are carved with decor or something else. How could anything mean anything if it means nothing to begin with. Arching, arching, arching. Stranger still these artless mysterious appear unto man…