Do you yearn for the music of the void, as it yearns for you?

Does some dark part of your mind–slumbering, and yet . . . awakened–pine to stare into the creeping, grinning blackness between the stars and feel its infinite dirge pour down upon you, like liquid into a vessel that knows not what it holds?

Does your very being vibrate with the need to hear–truly hear–the coiling, undulating counterpoint of the Sound That Should Not Be?

To feel its chattering, gnashing song course through your body, your brain bursting like overripe fruit as it twists you, transcending, into a form capable, at last, of joining it's horrifying chorus? No? Ok, whew. Like, honestly? That's great.