(0184) imitation of a dead society

inaudible. couldn't understand a thing.

"why don't you just turn the volume up?"

"it doesn't work like that."

"why not?"

"it just doesn't."

empty and cold.

"i hear they're finally starting to pull out. too little, too late i say. they should've done it sooner. way sooner."

"well, it's a start."

"true. but it just doesn't even matter now."

"it never did."

heads or tails. it never did matter. it's all the same anymore. dust and cobwebs. too many dead ends. strobelight we can't stop and the six finger salute. ignore my voice, and it'll be all better. mortality. inevitable. just like eventually paying money for water.

black crow holding the key of rationality. rationing my luck. once, i was a dreamer. dreamt of nothing. redwood trees and bumblebees. insufficient sacrifice beyond my field of view. a darkness appears. catapults me to the end of time. walks alone without rhythm. faux impressionist movement losing ground and i wonder why. failure to void and discard. failure to have purpose. failure to identify the obvious. sleepwalking through the past. but i digress.

seven days all lead up to seven more. death sentence ahead. need i say more? please let this be the end.