Lie, spit and snake along on one’s belly, forward, uphill, yet never nearing that damned infernal ceiling plane. Hyperactive paratactic salesmanship vehicles ram full bellies fuller, the gut ruptures, the whole structure quivers, the body erupts like a flower-bud then is quickly smelled out by marketeers, sold, and gobbled by some bigger maw.
A multitudinous vision has gripped the mass, a psychopompic rattling of chains, video rolling, We see with many eyes.