into the dungeon keeping always to the right
he descends ever further from the reach of the sun's light
an umbilical thread binds him to the outer wall
already crumbling under the weight of being always right
in tightening circles he begins to approach the apex
ringing echoes arouse the beast at the centre
its nostrils flare and its pizzle stands alert
when one enters on monsters one must also be entered
the beast makes frothing soup of the hero's insides
each pump sprays more offal down the legs of the beast
its great horn gores and gores each goring unsurvivable
it bellows as the hero flaps limply, deceased
bellowing and roaring for its private orgy
it tears mouthfuls from the hero and fills it with semen
the eyes of the hero swing blindly over the floor
if he expected to come back he must have been dreaming
the sky, appalled, finally falls on to the revelry
the beast man panics at the labyrinth's disintegrating
teeth bared and panting he scrambles above the falling soil
as outside and inside reunite in intimacy