Pain
	Ouch
	no, fuck you
	I bash the neerest thing with whatever I have, there are no arms, no body, but I punch the hell outta the thing hurting me. The energy is hot, I see it mold against the thing I hit, showing me the shape. I watch the hard angles and organic shapes mixed together with a fascination, seeing the shining all around onto the rest of the surroundings dimly. 
	Sparks and embers fluttering in the air as my energy returns, I'm in the jaws of something, it's broken but working crudely. I look down and see myself pinched in the chipped blades, not half way threw as the whole of the machine seems to have given up. Below are the gaps between the offset half circles letting anything squishy flow threw with enough pressure, I am no squishy.
	But...
	I hear the squishy...
	Can I?
	…
	All the others, not as firm, not as set as me, they just get pushed ontop of oneanother, no longer resisting after their lived wearing them down and pervading them with... They just fall in, whole. They just crumble... and... drip... by.
	I feel sick.
	Some part of me is like them.
	I don't like it.
	I look up and see nothing, I push up and feel the mass. Like rotting potatoes, slimy and squishy and sliding over one another as they pile on past. I want to move up, I know that and I don't want to go past the jaws. So I try and claw my way up.
	Why are they so slimy?
	There's no grip here, anywhere, stepping on the once blades isn't... I have no legs... I do have

	Somewhere inside the abandoned reincarnation center a vast explosion catches the interest of a nearby angel, equally abandoned the child is just trying to save those who care from the masses but be fell asleep, Yanimn went to fix the furnace to keep the lights on and Jessa just couldn't do a double shift no matter how hard he tried. The amber light slowly faded from the hall as the angel waded threw the dead souls of the world, no matter what they were made of nothing made it threw properly, he remembered the fruit they were supposed to have, their timber. This was a place of shedding rot, shedding sin and guilt and regret, now the massed churned out from life here was nothing but regret, sim, obligation, guilt, only the rare hearty root or sprout of hope remained. It was the angel's solemn duty to pull them back from the fate of the crusher, to put them back threw on in other soil, these souls were salvageable and resilient. But what would explode? Even in a pileup they shouldn't- then he saw it.
	Jessa was stunned by what his senses told him, a rebellious demon, a fallen angel, clockwork god and just plain fire all at once. Knee deep in dead things the angel stared on as it churned its fragmented, glassy hulk from the massed material. It shone in bronze and obsidian hues, roped together in twine and spider thread and burning in soft sorrow.
	Jessa fell.
	His knees resting on the floor, the soul larger then the whole of the angels in the facility still waded in its peers. Moments turned to minutes as it echoed curiosity and intrigue, blind to the fire that fed on the corruption with ravenous hunger. He let it wash over him, if he was to be corrupted better to be burned into oblivion after all.