The dark satanic mills, the daily grind
the age-old, yet remastered whitewashed stumbling blocks made out of hurdles of systems of grey people fractured, bent over resigned, contorted, twisted.
a farrowed groove, splinted, inky residue slivering down.
These systems Institutions once seen as places of hope, now, silos, closed, unresponsive echo chambers, draining life out – dying, demeaning, void of emotions, faceless, clueless.
God, come save your people, we are screwed
send us prophets of our time
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.