T H E E N D C O M M U N E

...my sense of self is locked in the great pillory of despair on some god-damned hillock lost and forgotten amidst an ocean of a thousand shark-fins wobbling at the surface and somewhere down there, the megalodon of angst nods back and forth in shallow sleep like a morphine-addict on her depthmost of all bottomless bottoms, stirring havoc, moving about her thunderous body, the scales, the panzer of death… and with her glowing teeth of the viper-fish, dripping filthy with the venom, the abyssic asp-mother... she moves her body - ancient dead sub-oceanic volcanoes awake and cause uproar...