where are the hungry birds, the morning creatures starved for the mother's stomach worms and bile? where do you hide and lurk about in this time and age? i'm curious. what makes your clock tick? what tells your body that it's time to retire it's orgones from this everlasting state, this emacitating hellish home? Dare you tread boredom more the less loathing upon these endless halls of the under world. step up. bend over. pour the very depths of your soul(?) (with agony mind you) the terrible hell that caused your stomach to spill here in the first place!