M T M
His perfect form was constricted by a perfect suit, but his comfort in it spoke to something caged; as a lion so used to confinement still brings its wild power to the bars of the zoo.
Fallow pools of vapid souls swirl around the world machine. Leaving little fuel for us, the cognisant fools committed to studying lies.
Clear as his two steaming jailers, he saw her twisted form, moving ever so slightly in the moment before absolute death. A second playing on an endless loop, his wife shifting into silence, a shiver almost too small to see, and now he was condemned to see it always.
More than to wish im trapped or I love you. Less than to leave the world on fire just to break our curfew.