voluntary small world post wall
The mother calls and calls to the cat that mother threw out not five
moments ago. There is nothing to say. The cat has the people trained
round here. She has them humming to themselves, pouring out food,
opening and closing doors all day. The cat is too cute for the kid.
Every lock is turned twice. Sicher ist sicher.
If you
lock yourself in then you lock out the world. The grey matter begins to
rot away. The packages come in from the factory through the door slot to
be consumed. Soylent green is people. My paranoia is the only thing
keeping me alive. I keep the storm alive in my own battleship of a
nightmare. I hide behind the covers and batten down the hatches. The
house is no longer a home, but a prison. The inmates are the wardens.
The sentence is self served for the crime of thinking that one could be
free.
voluntary small world syndrome: post wall