Full of Hell -

Through calcite, hairline fractured. Picked apart in tedium and cracking palms. Security is binded to familiar oppression. A highway to heaven, a prison of flesh. If the family had a name, by God it was blessed. The decrepit are constrained by ominous prophecy. The youth sold swiftly by their own fucking credulity. Terra Firma is calling, retreat from society. It offers me nothing, no olive branch or dogwood tree. Return to the mines and reject all that's come to be.