dreaming or half awake

The dark and solemn stare in spite and respect for the freedom of the unchained dancing prisoners. The system breeds us all into our roles, and for it we judge.
Gabriel Amza

Electric Blush

Industry roars under every hammer and in the hearts and minds of people that once were but now are under a shovel. The Institute is The Industry of The Mind.
Gabriel Amza

The Congress

Ideas falter when words take flight. It's one or the other but in The Institute it's best to have both. Nobody looses, nobody wins. 
Gabriel Amza

Clarity

The Agenda decays endlessly with every word. As it falters our souls keep growing, a balloon of make-believe hidden at the bottom of a murky glass.

Gabriel Amza

the grand scheme

They install the parking engines not for the sake of any kind of convenience or decency, but for the grand scheme, for the investigations, and for the endless smoking rooms of The Institute.
Gabriel Amza

spawning

Dire visions dance through the haze of substances and human emotion that sometimes spawns itself in the organs of the city. In it's spleen more than in it's heart, because nobody knows what goes on in the heart of a city, only in it's spleens.
Gabriel Amza

Flee South !

Never trust the lined people that shake hands throughout the buss terminals and railway stations of the world. Clearly they know better than you, and don't, so one should consider it. Shake hands, but always remember that the gig is always up. Flee South!

Gabriel Amza

The Man and the watchers

Run and throw and tumble and dash. The Man and the watchers are watching you watching them, and they know the ever present judgements of glass. It is, after all, their trade.
Gabriel Amza

Drifting in the dark

Even as the glasses run by 
In a frantic line of dreaded dreams
devouring each other with unusual thoughtlesness
They all look, and see
And are blind.
The world spins.
Gabriel Amza

the Machiavellian pipes

Cities and cities and people and trees 
Spinning marbles in a depraved spandex dream
Constant darkness fills the minds
Through the Machiavellian pipes
That run
All the way to The Institute.
Gabriel Amza

warm leatherette melting

It's remarkably cold, when you feel the warm leatherette melting.
You know, they knew, they don't regret. YOU don't regret.
The Institute doesn't move even as it watches.
Gabriel Amza