Review Summary: hallucinogenic sludge
The trek is arduous and backbreaking, with the only company one has being the revolting flora and fauna that has managed to stay afloat in the murky waste that slowly engulfs the surrounding world. The trudging is tough, as one’s whole energy must be put into wading through the all encompassing slime, hued green, brown, and yellow. The exerted force feels painful, but the desire to push on is there, despite the overwhelming many that have given up on this long travel, allowing themselves to be consumed by the putrid scum. This growth of muck, this pit of filth, emits chemicals that rot away the brain, creating auditory and visual hallucinations -- drug induced mirages of both heaven and hell. The path continues, however unclear the destination is.
Maybe there isn’t a destination, perhaps the only thing waiting at the end is the looming sense of defeat and dread as one realizes their travels were in vain, pitiful vain. The world would crumble around them, being serenaded by the distorted and unreal sounds of a frightening kind. Even if there is a destination, it could easily be an abyss of sadistic suffering, one that would rot the mind until one becomes a masochistic demon who loves their home out of necessity. On the other hand, maybe the undefined path will lead to the land of milk and honey, sought after by all. Is Nirvana waiting, or will one find themselves in Gehenna"
Whatever awaits, will it be true" For that matter, are these insects, the kinds of which man has never seen, that crawl upon the flesh not covered in muck actually there" If they aren’t, what is there and what is just a face" The gentle croons in the distance" The driving tones that melodically trudge along" The rhythmic slams that penetrate the broken soul, motivating one to keep going"
Even if all these things are real, it shouldn’t matter to one who is robotically moving along, the only thing keeping them afloat being their fractured willpower and the piercing drones from beyond. Life, Death, whatever's in between; it really doesn’t matter currently. The only thing that matters now, the only thing that has ever mattered, the only thing that will ever matter is the slime. This oozing substance could disappear soon, or it could remain until the bitter end, if such a mercy as “the end” is granted. It is as comforting as the soft plucking sounds that build what one used to call a song and it is as painful as the destructive collages of sound that, in conjunction with the corroding effect of the sour murk, slowly erode the mind, leaving a similar sludge in the head.
The pace of the rhythmic tones matches the pace of the encompassing residue with unbelievable accuracy, slowing and speeding up, making it difficult to keep a manageable pace of movement. Between the disturbing soundscape and the illusions of memories once familiar, whatever is left of the mind can only ask, with no hope for answers. Any screams one could make are pointless, as the paralyzed beasts around couldn’t hear these shouts over the sounds that have become more apparent over time, nor could they comprehend what is even being said. Even still, all they can do is stare. Stare into the soul, as if one had something to do with the destruction that surrounds. This surrounding slime, shows no sign of stopping and is, oddly enough, the only thing that has stayed consistently unaffected by hallucinations. No matter what, the substance surrounding the zombie-like husk of what used to be human is unaltered in its incomparable and inconceivable impurity.
One’s thoughts, which have been asking phantasmagoria-fueled questions, have slowed to the point of a trance. The mind does not think, the heart does not beat, the eyes cease to see, the soul does not feel. The body still trudges, the ears still hear what they used to consider songs, the skin still feels the warm scum as the autonomous being moves forward, similarly to a single-celled organism. The destination no longer matters, the sludge has complete control.
The final thought that one has is as follows.
This must be the end.