Right,
Orwell's version of room 101 travels well,
we each have a vision of hell and where we go when things die, some think of roses, others apple pie, but I think of gremlins that rip through the sky and fly down to devour me, they hold the power over me, a fear of the night, a  feeling that room 101 is just right and that's dismal.

In the abyss, the Abbess looks up and she prays for the sun to light and to bathe her in the cleansing rays of the dawn of a day, she's unsatisfied and cries to the heavens above, 'enough of the ******* give me more of your love'.

There's a silence that hangs like a taut sequence in a thriller I saw on the TV,
She doesn't see it and hears nothing,  she only craves the attention of some celestial dimension,
her sisters, a convent, convene to discuss it, candles are lit for a mass though there's few.

A demon called Andrew who once flew with Richtofen and often drops in for a chat,
tells me,
'I've seen all of this and it doesn't mean that nor lack of wings mean a man cannot fly and the dear god above does not have the monopoly on love
I hope the Abbess will find some and get by.

In every chapter, a verse some are better for the worse and some should be thrown to the crowd.