Why do we waste our lives in a slave trade capitalistic system? The nauseating, soul-destroying 9-5; the cramped office blocks that resemble an ant’s nest; the instilled hierarchy of the social classes where privilege and poverty are passed through blood heritage.
Oh, the chronic anguish of consciousness. The claustrophobia emitted with every scattered breath.
Written by R. Acero
I love that sweet smell of decay that surrounds me in forests and woods. A kind of mulchy, deep, rich rot that has no connotation of death or ending, but rather of life and age. A sense of perpetual destruction and rebirth.
‘Chapter 1. Illusions’
‘Chapter 2. Sleepless nights’
‘Chapter 3. Mirrors’
‘Chapter 4. It Speaks With Me’
‘Chapter 5. Opposing Voices’
‘Chapter 6. Desensitisation’
‘Chapter 7. The Thirst’
‘Chapter 8. I Must Kill Myself’
‘Chapter 9. Re-awaken’
‘Chapter 10. Levitation’
The external world makes me feel claustrophobic, whereas my mind is endless possibility; an infinite playground.
Dusk is burning into her cheeks, her sore limbs.