A small, porcelain baby girl was born in the early morning, into a family of wealth and prosperity. Her parents, the mid-wifes, the doctors, could see it in her tiny dark glassed eyes- this tiny porcelain human was destined for great heights. Her white, translucent skin contrasted against her dark eyes and thick hair. But she was lost, ever since the thick, infested human air rushed into her pure bloody lungs. Breaking through the threshold, the barrier between living inside of someone and now living in yourself, was the first move any of us dammed humans make when you uncontrollably gave the decision for life to someone else.
Always wanting to know more, there are no fucking limits, questions that will always remain unanswered and unattended to, you're always left on the hold tone, there is no escape, you make it to one platform but before you know it there's another platform the train operator is asking you to transfer to, always reaching out to the realm that's there but only when you acknowledge it, so many souls are around you, you, have to wait another half an hour for the next train to arrive, souls with faces, souls without faces, ACh rushing through your nerves- control? what fucking control do we have?