demo VI

After the Fall? But what if the decline simply never ceased... You tumble eternally through the strata of anti-worlds, through the soft, sodden flooring of dead leaves, the half-frozen marshlands, the luminous white larvae, the blood-clay-bark-earth, beneath everything, beneath Time itself... And your descent carries on into the infra-worlds, ever colder, ever more illogical, ever more deranged... The tentacular roots, fashioning their own loathsome cosmogonies of pure putrescence, alongside those serrated toads with their acerbic, idiotic stares; drooling potent acids that melt the flesh of anti-mammals, their pelts stripped raw, their yellow eyes gleaming, their external organs tinged a sickly reddish hue... But we have not yet descended deep enough. We must venture further, until we reach another frontier: the stairways of liquefied lichen, interlocked and nested within one another, forming a deranged labyrinth of humus... Where all dead flesh eventually entwines itself into an architecture of moss and toxic vapours...