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The bodies are buried in the dank boiler room of a building scabbed with crimson windows. Trimmed with gargoyles, the superstructure rises on cords of carbon steel. Inside miraculous husks, the elevators lift and fall, lift and fall, without stopping. Antiquated carriages click like scarabs on ropes and pulleys. With interiors lit by faint buttons, the listless coffins circulate our remains behind gypsum walls. When the elevator doors glide open, an emerald chime sings your name.
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Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
Modern Necropolis
The bodies are buried in the dank boiler room of a building scabbed with crimson windows. Trimmed with gargoyles, the superstructure rises on cords of carbon steel. Inside miraculous husks, the elevators lift and fall, lift and fall, without stopping. Antiquated carriages click like scarabs on ropes and pulleys. With interiors lit by faint buttons, the listless coffins circulate our remains behind gypsum walls. When the elevator doors glide open, an emerald chime sings your name.
jonathan-witte
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Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
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