A "spiritual successor" for Justin Relics (since ya dug the N.T.T. review so much!):
Macerated flesh clings desperately to crushed bone.
Exposed nerves thrash and spark, strobing over a seizing mass that used to be...
...your body.
Blood welters in a pathetic attempt to armor skin sanded down to the muscle,
but even static air burns like acid against this wretched canvas of agony.
Everything burns like acid.
...breathing...
...hearing...
...seeing...
...thinking...
...all from daring to glance at God's bestiary of mankind's hatred for itself.
So when he found you, kissed your lidless eyes, and commanded you to look again...
...you sputtered...
...you flagellated...
...and you begged...
...begged his cold mercy for a reprieve in Hell.
