empty dialogue echoes from days past a silence filled with byproducts of machinery and a crackle of laughter from the logs human expression faint bellows of yawns carve deeply into the oxygen gasping for breath awaiting salvation Dim days, dim darker. taste of coldness resting on my tongue. gently glazing the soul freezing from within. Guess hell aint a bad place to be. Within the warmth of hell fire fireplace... dreams of despair read a book in front of a diorama of Satan’s lair minus the inhabitants.