When you reach for the cold wooden board your hands begin to decay your skin peels back then hardens and falls off your scarlet bones. A bright midnight flash struggles to push through to the other side of your mind revealing that you passed years ago but are stuck in an actuality that doesn’t belong to you. Life is all just a disorder, dead but you keep on living a distorted mind trapped in an unborn child's head. Or it could be a game from the further future that they play controlling little beings within a screen. The words engraved on the board now lay in your flesh and you cannot let go from the reality within reality but is the concept that hard to grasp? You believe in God but not your own insanity? We are the dead ones that are only able to perceive they are makers of our madness the creators of an urban fantasy and they try to speak to us from millions of years in the future through a sharp birch wood board but the lies we are told and the truths that this “world” withholds does not compare to the unknown universe outside of this screen.