‘OPEN’ flickered in the wet fog that saturated everything. 24/7 meant the pills would be left at the counter. He had meant to get there much sooner but the day did not cooperate.
Bright lights burn on white floors and wooden signs are painted where slaves offer their souls. There are only babies here, begging for forgiveness.
“What the hell! Are they watching me?”
Big brother is everywhere. Gray children hide like chameleons in the branches of circumstance. Nothing is as it seems.
Policy cannot save us. Feet are swollen and sick from abuse. Ears have heard too much tongue.
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