brother, don't come looking for me

don't come lookin' for me down here. ‘there are ravines. presences something between molluscs and deities squat patiently below eight miles of water. in the lightless cold a brutality of evolution obtains. rude creatures emit slime and phosphorescence and move with flickerings of unclear limbs. the logic of their forms derives from nightmares. there are bottomless shafts of water. there are places…