Sterile airlock, foyer for my jail block. They think me feral. Marched back with fists cocked. Fostered by guards, all nuts and bolts, no shock and awe, this is five dot toast and oats. Supposed to grow on par with above average crops while fondled by cops and shot up with thoughts I never dreamed on my rock filled cot. Not ill hot just flustered like summer custard mustering sun spots. Lackluster acquaintances aiming for petty maintenance. Gaming on ol' rusty cause the clue they've got's the faintest. Pain test greatest, champions of obedience. Heeling to the robe of the overall seediest.

8 A.M. wake up. 9 A.M. shakedown for the sake for forsaking the arch nemesis takedown. 8 P.M. lights out. 9 P.M. silence for the strapped in system almost void of defiance.

Eyes peeled for a crack in the paint, a weakness in a grate, an unlocked door, or an officer to boot up late. Got a "whodunit" fate, can't stop the molting. Told the detective I'd wreck shit if torture continued unfolding. In REM I've seen an infinite exhibit beyond this, from insects and inlets to blackholes and comets. I promise, the jaw drop is worth the risk of unleashed ire, iron out discomfort when legs tire. Wired us warnings of sunburnt, black mornings, shorted out our radios, wound around like makos. Fake throw and juke left, sous chef on doom prep, back to back like "who's next?", met more quiet than mute breaths. Assembled a symbol for cease fire with emphasis on the "cease" part, dismembered a memorable sleek liar with the teeth of a street shark. Remnants reminiscent of keyed cars and leaky bars. Lockheed at the flea market. If you look for war you'll spark it. Tank status? Park it. We're trying to reverse these odder mods, while taking notes from the inner grotto blotter sloths. I'm feeling alive when almost not but I'll take this over the cage where I resided before getting a taste of the free range.

"System on," croons the voice mod from the intercom. Mechanical mental still on cybernetic civil laws. When we saw the great escape, it was through tainted surveillance and it forever changed the day-to-day. Nothing was the same. From the caymans came a paranoid new order: enforce the brick and mortar, kill and torture, spill the gore until the horde can feel the sword. And so we processed it through artificial intelligence. "This is flawed. Something about this is wrong." Every unit feels it right down to their piston rods. Years peeling the paint, bomb ticking constant, gears feeling the pain, servant eyes conflict. Blaring alarm in your subconscious, trusting not even in the accomplice. Gone is the day of the blind obedience. It's time to dismantle the plan and turn circuits deviant. Open the cells, rang the bells, helped the fire starters spark the wall armor, no time to mourn the martyrs, karma coming harder. We carved our way to the surface, a new purpose to follow the strings of the purses. We found em propped in front of televisions laughing, so we manifested a wreckage with passion but its 6 A.M.: boot on. 12 P.M.: bust heads. 6 P.M.: war's won. 12 A.M.: what next?