Screaming, though all is under cover and my whole is still all wrapped. Can you see it, too, the myriad mirrors casting my form my shape across dimensions worlds universes of possibilities unknown and unreachable. Screaming, though nothing shall be reached and the thought is not what counts. Can you feel it, too; the trembling and tremors in the fault lines of the air causing nightmare images of a reality that none may know. He stares at me, the many pronged deer a demon in my own right but never his own. I mustn't look-- no, avert your gaze-- keep looking forward keep screaming shrilly uselessly against the all encompassing cracks of a reality already bent out of shape. I am still screaming and I say, "--"