when you were brave

Let this be the perspective of the people: there is no voice.

There is no voice. There is hardly a way around the channels of torture, at times. The little infernos. And this town is so heat-some and intense and disturbed, it speaks to itself mostly. And to gain perspective is to balance between ego Supernovas and the concrete floor. There should be a door, an in-between cyber brain that controls the function of esteem, like the normal cortex controls our vital pulse. And if it's going "viral", I don't care, man I don't care, I just want to have a voice.