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lirik lagu a state of suffering caused by the sudden sight of one's own misery - day 6

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[[[unrelated notes from an old, forgotten project]]]

ghost 6:

the white walls fill your days in a way that makes the wandering beforehand desirable
one would think it would be the endless travel to drive you to the brink, but more honestly, wandering is such a primal normality that, once it had returned to prominence, it instead is the stifling of that travel that drives you mad
you understand humanity’s basic drive towards the arts- if only you had paints, or even a simple black marker, the white walls would instantly be welcoming canv-sses
instead, they are stark reminders of your hopeless entrapment
no windows, no visible doors, though surely you were thrown in somehow
the fluorescence emanates from the ceiling, which is unusually tall
it’s impossible to know if you’ve been here for days, or weeks
sleep comes and you don’t know whether you sleep for ten minutes or ten hours, but you sleep lightly
you are hungry, but something about the light either convinces you that your hunger doesn’t matter or increase, or perhaps the light is transmitting nutrition to you, turning you into a plant potted in the cell of the rich
you can only imagine that the lack of communication to you is the result of indecision- you’ve discovered their secret, and can’t be allowed to spread the word
however, the false sense of morality that the elite revel in convinces them that they could never live with being directly responsible for the death of a person, even though they so callously threw away the lives that withered while they restructures their own community
you spend much of your time wondering how long they’ll keep the pet you feel you are


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