The flight deck on flames, the burnt husk of a kamikaze pilot blackened and grotesque stares with infinite eyes into the fear of the king's enlisted men. It is in this moment that I come to know God. Stinging from the fumes of dead bodies, I rise above a scene frozen in the immortality of ghosts. Away above curls of smoke and vaporized flesh I flee the terror of my self-knowledge and seek refuge in the distractions of hell.
Come to me, Hecate, and fill the needs of this soulless body. Mortify the ornate marionettes and burn their strings. Then, falling apart in so many crashes of legs and arms, they will know as I know the horrors of being free.