Hello Little Digit

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I am sure to die in a cataclysmic mercury, finite in worth and composition in lifted brigades. These missions over envelop the water beds, crashing into the planet’s futures in folly an equations assured. I was self made, oven baked and ready to be serviced to the courts of public judgement and sequential formalities. These fortune tellers battle for activity blowing outward in similarities in virtual swellings. These corporatized entity’s shell out  annually in bleak exploration of a simulation. Two dissimilar rooms, folds into the modern day wishes for a more secure tear aways. The essential desires, and cutlery imagined forward and wanting a magnetized forgery.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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