Meanwhile while Gravity is destroying people’s lives via robots and nano-viruses, Charcoal is flying higher than a kite just wondering, wondering where it’s all slipping away to. Can’t ground these feet when you’re floating off, purposeful and driven, into outer space.
Mirth is pretty serious. You are going to pay for this.
Wanderer is drifting, slipping, sneaking out away from Gravity — but then, Gravity too is gone.
Lost an eye to a fight? Lost your heart to the race? Lost the feelin in your legs from the pace? Just wait.
The end of a long dark tunnel slippery slimy with slick moisture built-up mildew is seeping into your open pours, your clothes, your hair follicles.
You have exactly one hour before we gas the place. Torch the place. Up in flames.
Don’t go back for notebooks or bank notes.
Fever or madness or the sheer drop on the other side of boredum — you are soley to blame.
I hate you.
“But you deserve everything you get.”
Yes, and thank you.