The mill of the indoor world grinds, gently and mercilessly, in tearing silence. How long do your cardiovascular keys have with clapping diligence? Why, in the exodus of creation, do mortals not have a say in the right to glimpse ?! - In countdown standby, arrhythmic echo disturbances, then encrypted Morse signals, line up to stop the entire rotating circulation and stop with bomb-roaring chatter.

Your grotesque grimaceous mirrors mock you all; you can't leak into the stupid soul and see that you are guaranteed to love yourself! Who can handle your stuck comment in your throat? Life marketplace pounds off orphaned stuff - and you know, it starts with you. On the heights of the unabashed absurdities, everyone can compete, not you! You have a lot to keep - if any - a ****** joke.

Seeing quartz in the depths of curved mirrors is still possible. At the very least of all the troubles, every Action-Will seems to slip away as a snoring-smearing algae. On the alleyways long flooded with literal debris, dense wolf-yells are telling people: where once light-hearted fellowship, café discussions could change hands, now they are spewing karate-and-spades of guilt-ridden coffins.

At dawn, wild-horde, vulnerable-******* bacchanals, teenage moms breastfeed their babies for incubator prisons! - Shivering from frenzied mass ecstasy, you want someone outside to help you free up and get the rest of your free air!