I think you've been banging yourselves into fucking reality for a while now

 We were trapped in our own temple of beauty. An enhanced fear. I think you've been banging yourselves into fucking reality for a while now. Waiting for putrefaction within the body of the soul, individual and collective. The exit of the steps where there is no exit. Spider tunnel. Of spider time. Sea spider wave. Its liquid air passages. Of sea nests. Of hands lost in shipwrecks. They float, they go balancing on the possibility of soaking their sinking. Shipwrecked hands floating.