>>5965853The spirits didn't want to hear you, the solitude is too sad to bear, and hearing you torments them.
The baby mind confuses everything, your ears lie, baby; you don't hear them. In the darkness of the room you find the most clear sight of where you are, the supermarket monster, where its not allowed to vomit, where its not allowed to be inedible.
The monster pushes you with its ambiguous and indistinguishably foot, pushing you towards the bridge of lard without much direction nor focus, forward. A bit harder each time you trip in an inconvenient and hard to push position, but clearly not wanting to destroy you. His pushes wont let you stand at first, but if you try you could save yourself from further kicking if you fleed. To him spirits dont exist, to him you are vomit, to him the world used to end before the hog became the bridge.
With a short and quick glance you see the surroundings behind him, behind it all; horrible faces extend their plastic arms forward, blind and amorphous, adefeciums from the spirits; they cant hear you, you cant hear them, but they are there, and you torment them.
What do you do, caramel?
