So here I sit, another day has passed, 11:08 PM, eastern, at the kitchen table, deep in thought.

The clouds roll through gently across the blackened sky, the stars mere dimly lights across the velvet sheet of night.

It is here I begin to wander, staring up into the sky, my journey from the mortal realm into a dream like state, still wide awake but travelling across the heavens in a chariot pulled by three white horses.

Madness awakes inside of me, a fire there directly in my belly, a misery in my brain, drink does not calm the beast there, standing there in a field of broken glass and dreams, high towers in the city blocking out the sun from the sight of the people below.



Great masses follow the shade of madness, twenty second street, following the dollar signs to their greatness, more likely their defeat.

Hollers against the collars, the yokes of their enslavement to the greed of that monster, too tall to feel the cold hard ground on their feet or to hear the cries of miseries from the people it steps on below.

Society, the great unwashed, press their bodies against the grinding of the gears, to keep the machinery greased and moving so all does not fail.

For if they stop then truly we are all doomed or so the Word is written on hard stone or maybe broken clay, so off they march, the lowly paid into the horrid machine, their blood be the lubricant for the wheels of the machine.

The door mats of society, the general population, try to stand on their own two feet sometimes but the monster growls then roars and the people go to bended knee then grovel at the invisible threat they know is there for their parents told them so.

Who told the parents?

Why their parents did and so on and so forth and so the machinery goes!


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