Here you are again —
that familiar hum
that low-pitched vibration
as if White Noise fucked Agony
and made a Depression baby
It would be a silent-shrieking Thing
that no one could soothe
and then…
A far away voice —
Demeter, maybe?
— begs me to return
to come back up
but I can’t find the way
out of this maze
There are ladders everywhere
ladders that go nowhere
It’s a special type of hell this time
One where
I can hear the voices from the outside
and know there is Life
somewhere
But not in this place
Only this heaviness
Only this heartbreak
Only this desperation
begging humankind to wake
But down here the inner Beggar just decays
Too little, too late
Too little.
Too late.
and quite frankly
I am left with nothing left
to say
ariaphoenix 
As you used to respond to me when I’d put you to bed at night on Tigertail and say my “montage” to you — “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, don’t forget to stick your head in the rock” — “That’s right.”