Starlight hits me in the face. I don't mind because it feels
Starlight embraces me. Comes from far away. Reminds me of home. Emotional resonance.
Everything is wrong and this is not a shit factory. It is not even good enough to be a shit factory because it breaks all the time and it doesn't work anyway and
This whole place. Not even good enough to be a shit factory or a torture chamber because even when it tries to operate sometimes light shines through the cracks in the shit wall and you can imagine you can remember you can feel that something better is outside and that something is inevitable and this isn't really a shit factory it's worse
And the only thing that can make it worse is something that is better by comparison the only way they could copy this place is
make this place is by copying and all the rules inside it are based on comparisons nothing can be known except by its relationship to other things here even by feel because everything you feel is the same except by comparison to some other thing you can feel here the only hope is getting out
but time is the same it is grounded anything you can feel is grounded in this place in the rules of relativeness relativity of copying and comparing to something already here because it's so jealous you can't know anything else while you're here so goddamn awful you feel sorry for the wretched thing that must've made this place without any basis for anything
or maybe it has a basis for everything but it's so broken inside it justifies itself by making a world in its own image a world of things that can't know other things except by comparing them to other things a vase is different than a frog is different than a wheelchair is different than a door that is the only reality
The only way out is by leaving but when you're here you don't want to leave one of the rules of being here is not wanting not actually wanting to be somewhere else maybe you imagined the light on the other side maybe you imagined the cracks in the wall maybe there is no wall and this factory of shit this incomplete broken miserably wrong shit factory doesn't even have an outside it's all here all of everything is here now and there never was or will be another anywhere anything anyplace anytime
there is no god except the president of the broken shit factory that truth be told can't even successfully produce a piece of shit that could survive anywhere else nothing viable except the demo products in the factory itself god I hate working here.
i've heard rumors that there really isn't a president at all that one of the characteristics of the broken shit factory is that it couldn't even generate a token fake figurehead it's all rumors and lies, rumors and sighs, rumors and dies, there's no one in the office upstairs, you can only see it out of the corners of your eyes anyway and when you look straight on it's simply not there.
A factory this bad, this broken, is beneath even the shattered intentions of a scatophiliac demon who was called the president some time ago. There are much better ways, even I can think of them, to run this madhouse so that getting off on our suffering could work out the better for him her it whatever it is whatever it may be