Never Seen from Manta by The Spring

Eyes wide in anticipation. Lurching through the swamp, each step seemingly heavier than the last. Assailed by the sense of imminent futility. A single life is so small inconceivably small. Small enough to fall through the cracks. Over the railing skidding out of sight. Cornered on all sides by immense trampolines - back you go, bounce along now. There's no slinking away this time. Saddled and stirruped - now you're ready. Insidious whips, soundless and markless, drive you up the steep slopes of the mountain, past innumerable corpses. Beatific skulls. Something's not right. Vultures pecking, finding strips of flesh, flying off with a squawk. Respite after temporary respite. Quizzical frowns abound. Forced through the tunnel we constructed. Hacking at rock it oozes black, sad. This is not my choice I choose a different life. Waves of disembodied arms abandoned discarded left to rot - they live yet. Arms reconstruct themselves they form an immense lumbering body of arms. Host of campfires burning higher brighter. There's no coming back from this. Expedition gathers force.

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