"Once he is within our custody, we shall take his life. He shall be, henceforth, survived only by the image that stains my CCTV screen."
Security is no longer watching the CCTV. No longer watching someone purchase a rice pouch— Pulsating in a sterile environment— Monitoring an image that was never on tape. Focusing, so deeply, on a soul that was never on tape.
So deeply fixated on those who have committed a crime. Those who are substantially unblemished by sunlight. Those who are continuously touched by our Heavenly Father's sight. Those who unceasingly scale onyx towers draped in a government skin, Waving pure flags against the night.
They stand on lines Made in earth Their little lines that follow them Showing everyone where they've been An age of watching lines The all seeing eye that hangs within the sky Watching day and night As a billion lives go by
He peeps through the looking glass of life. Emotionally detached, a social recluse. Avoid eye contact. Avoid eye contact. Don't dare look at me! That's right you've seen him! But.... Have you actually seen him? Or is he just a figment of your imagination? For he's the stalker. Lurking about in the shadows. Spying on you from afar through those holes in the wall. A human CCTV system looking you up and down when you least expect it. Recording your every move in the memory bank. Voyeuristic tendencies with the inability to openly admit he's one step away from the psychiatric ward.