the cold, white building has been abandoned for seven years today. what was once a majestic foundation for the analysis of a humanity, now an empty fable of gargantuan men in laboratory suits and young women who thirsted to follow in the footsteps of the honorable Florence.
The sanguine fluids left from the yesterdays and the yesterdays seep and transude into the holy grounds of the asylum. no man, no beast dares to disturb the forsaken soil, the venerable clay loam out of which grows the neverending carnage of body and flesh. lost voices of a thousand schizophrenics still scream from the silent operations of their euthanasia.
the lands have not lied under the unadulterated, pure heavens since the genesis of H. sapiens himself. This βwise, knowing manβ has doused and suffocated the flame that radiated prospect, leaving the wide, exquisite cosmos no more than a nefarious expanse of chaos and dismay.
The structure, the edifice of what was intended for knowledge and bounty, has indeed fallen victim to the inauspicious prophecy that they molded and sculpted themselves.