Writhing mass of undignified love and suffering – the thought horde, greedy for new horrific forms, overdoses on identity. Ignore the merchant cries of bargain bin insanity. Best to go junking deep for the sweetest of tragedies. What can you find? Melt of deranged faces, grotesque carnival motion, a strangled kiss, hammer blows of compunction, stimulated frenulums of bliss. A sickly synthesis of inmates who ride the dark tides of base desire and faded memories. Suddenly, it strikes.

Hyperkulturemia! Tendrils of mania pull you in, knot you as part of the interior, subject you to the microflows of pressurised cogitation. Crammed in, the desperate animals war at the borders, the whole terrible empire threatening to snap. Quick! Don’t let them escape. But it’s too late. Private thoughts pour into the pharynx, decompress in the bends, rush berserk to the exit. Exposed at last! The lobotomised architrave of man.