The clouds are beckoning, rain drenching the world around them indignantly, emitting a thick dark grey gloom that covered the city. A pity, today could have been the day. The day that finally surpassed all, erasable so it would be for when it comes your fate will be determined, as you are the preposition of tomorrow, the morrow will come but one day not to you. To us they said, “you’ll find that our generation has really fucked it, and your’re going to have to fix these problems that have been accumulated, from perpetual idiocy.” Mostly, an undercurrent of greedy fiends, taxing the means to which we would expire without enough, enough of this.
The line is drawn, and those who cross it, become it, as others all brand their own version of replication in the tone and malice that broadened the severity of the conversation. In preparation, he’d admit that he’d had a few just to calm the nerves of his immediate and crippling social ineptitude. Nevertheless, he’s just discovered a window left slightly ajar. The gap has caused a flooding situation, left everything wet, all disposable, but now detestable. besides the kitchens buoyant condition, the weather remained flamboyant in it’s oddly comforting presence. As if to act as a reminder that the worlds still turning out there.