drip, drip, drip

the noise of stagnant water, falling from the roof of my dungeon.

like some garish theme park, the world outside is full of bright lights and tempting propositions. take this ride. eat this food. play this game. use this phone. the billboards scream out to me.

is there a point pretending that things are ideal - well almost ideal? will a little tweak, here and there, in some slightly flawed scenery, really sort things out? sacrifice blood, sweat, tears wouldn't help either, would it?

and i am known for my perspicacity. nothing (supposedly) escapes my evil eye. but do i really care?

i don't.

so i'm going back to where i belong. my little coffin in my little dungeon where the noise of stagnant water falling from the roof goes

drip, drip, drip