We're All Rotting in Cocoons

Death loses its meaning here, it becomes a proliferation. Whenever one "I" dies in this small, dark room, another "I" wakes up in the bed, inheriting all the cold memories and rotten hopes. The cage of this cycle is not an array of nothingness - I know that at its core is you. So listen: I am dying over and over again, approaching again and again. I'm coming to find you.