Tickets for the Stations of Spirit

In the first house the people run around breaking what they hate. Fights burst through the doorways, the food is burnt, the water is tainted, and everybody is blacked-out.

Next door is an orgy of people addicted to desires, spreading disease by sharing blindly, but having a ball. Each platter bigger than the last, with food so plentiful that the rats party in the walls. The gathering is sloppy.

At the end of the block is a small house brimming with dancing. The instruments are played soft, and mixes well with the singing. The food is simple and tasty, with just enough for everybody to fill. In the corner is a child hoping to stay up late, but yawning through a smile.


The pharmacy of your mind prescribing for my pleasure

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