And he saw those eyes.

He couldn't count those eyes.

That saw all this in him.

Theust -

Pheel saw the planet in dissolving layers before those eyes that wanted.

Womb Booths. Great edifices, of organs, great sideways sliced organic cities, built out of spleens, and livers, and kidneys, and worse. The organic organ planet. The weird-barbarous fruits of the mad Science Priests. Fat hormone-bubbles wafted on winds, all too visible, landing on flesh, crawling in ears - changing your ideology, upon the whims of the moment of the Science Priests: daily state cults, birthed, born, evaporated, and cast out[!] those great sphincters upon each building that soared like cracked ribs toward heavens.

This was necessary, this opinion, today, in order to be considered righteous; the Science Priests conducted their society upon these hormones that whirled everywhere around you,

making you believe that which -

It behoved them.

He saw the dreamunits; he saw them on the sides of buildings; he saw that they were the sides of buildings; he saw Womb Booths open and flap out on the street the slick crowned organs that pulsed flat and wetly there: in order to observe what was outside them; in order to exhibit the fact of their individual consciousnesses, that these suites held beings – were beings; with their own peculiar and sideways dreams; their own longings to possess, to hold, to keep, to join with another being in order to know them on the level of cells. And sexual organs.

These flat, wet, slippy organs, skittered between Science Priests, hunched, ancient, and somehow still alive. They breathed those hormones themselves they were addicted to. The only new life, was that formed entirely out of the flesh beneath a stairwell, enough consciousness, calculated to the minutest level:

an ear with a brain, and a clit - only those organs required, minimal, to know they were broken, and to dream insane currents of pain toward – toward the daily recounting, of the hormones, sphincter-shat upon the winds, enough to dream,

enough to dream when they weren't being raped

by ancient and artificial savages, enough to dream

23 hours and fifty minutes in a day

, fuelling that -

Fuelling that thing that was no longer required.