Would be no more than 2 or 3 square feet
And like a M.C. Escher print
Around you...
An infinity of mirror images of yourself
You would try and speak
But only a meaningless noise would come out
And in reply...
A cacophony of your eternal selves would call back
A soulless helpless whimper into the void
Time would be compressed
A few weeks
would feel like an eternity
And then...
It's all over
THE VOID!!!
And in some savage, arcane ritual
You are anointed with a red liquid
Cremated in a fiery furnace
And placed in a plastic casket.
To satiate the hunger of an alien species.
Yes.
The world of a chicken has both small horizons
And a gruesome end.
Can I have mine extra hot?
