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You sit collapsed as an empty mind, last bytes dissolved into your last breath and the droning sound of hollow replaces pulse... with ache.

It is lonely here, living in the hazy moment between the alarm and the awakening where the dream precipitates madness as its encore.

You are only half there. The other half erased to be brushed from the paper by the same hand that fingers the edge of a fresh scab until you bleed a river of ridiculous.

I see now it's not the vision that's attraction - You peddle your pieces to a man called Compromise for a place in the greater scheme until the only thing left standing is the place where you once stood.

You have just reduced yourself from static...
To dead...
air...
droning...

Or it could be the other way...

Take the wire to the other side of this metal sky and you will see.
These stars are just projections.

This is not real, which means their thunder is merely a threat.

Do you want to know the truth?

They need you.

They are mechanical,

maniacal,

derived - you couldn't drown in their gene pool if you tried -

They're all made up in brilliant disguise selling the very thing they most want
but cannot possess...

YOU.

And magic is the key to their success as simple sleight of hand steals your autonomy leaving you believing you are in control...

Tell me, do you trust your judgement?

My friend... You're id's been tricked.

Welcome....

to Metropolis

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