i'm stuck here, my skin is wearing off and i couldn't identify the day. i remember an addition to my plans, another corridor filled with information, yet the details of the map cannot be trusted.

my feet pound the ground repeatedly, someone points out there was a switch and i want it and come across another intersection, dreamed of the latest news (injected by a needle), went up the stairs and fell. but that was a week ago.

since then the power is turned off and it's hard to get somewhere when you walk around and so you try to catch an answer, is this the word?, she just stood there.

their visions don't offer me escape from a culture which threatens to absorb this place. and their dreams crumble with them. so much comes comfortably if you like
the smoggy haze of hate, if you don't acknowledge but supercede the bricks which make your past .