Industrial Institutions

the industrial side of institutions; powered by the people.  once poisoned into a system, left to escape, and captured for the benefit of a machinery that operates as paint-by-number.  gotten for the good of the ill, for the stationary consumption of matters.  the repetitious nature, wears on even the staff, as clients whizz around in a daze of sleepy forgetfulness, drugged by their captors, who have naught a better thing for them to do but walk the halls, and repetisioutly be subjected to the folloys of man, and woman, in a cramped space, on a hourly basis.

the pavlovian cry for breakast, snacks, lunch, snacks, and dinner, ice cream on a daily basis keeps us here.  whether we choose to eat, or pretend to toss wasted food around a table, we are hot, soaking up the paths we walk each hall into our muscles and bones, into our hearts and heads, as we feel the brush brush past, as if from the astral bogeyman.

recover do we, by the night of an unpowered recipricating floor, as energys fall to ground on the 24hr clock.  hopeful we are that once again we will make the right choice, perhaps some pray for it.. with unleavened bread even.

and perhaps in the middle of the night, it is electrified to clear paths, make choices, and heady onward to a promised place of new beginnings, if you can muster escape velocity of the chattering kind, in code and under the radar of camera and client awakenness.

else the day begins with the facitious "we've seen it all before, and again" smile as they take the vitality from you once more, and once again promise you a new chance.. to have breakfast.

--- this report from the inside is brought to you by the mind of an in and about away the c 3 w of the land of presenting muck and syllogism in the early latter part of the a m, just before.  breakfast.