Mood: tunnel visioned The machine is saturated in despair, with all the parts dulled and rusty. And this corruptive outlook salted the gears into a corroded state. The machine will shortly fail. There are many others inside; whispering, taunting. Unpurposed and dysfunctional, powerless against stimuli. Self-destruction and peversion give birth to a blackened light whose sole purpose is to hinder the production of the machine. Failure is an absolute, and in it, the machine is well-oiled.
Protoplasm
7:59 a.m.//11.18.06
Sound: the neighbor's shower
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