Nowhere: 1

Nowhere: 0b11000

Little prince, you search, but not for what you desire. A replacement is second best, a coping mechanism to placate the kvetching.

What power is there when you still choke, still bleed? What ceiling lies in wait while you dig down to escape your limitations?

The tether thins, steeping you in desperation. Purpose has never seemed so transparent or strong. It’s the graphene that circumfuses your will.

Yet a fence is indifferent. The assumption of safety predisposes it to catastrophe. As a truly negligent lord, dereliction is chosen in favor of auditing.

The inevitable is then an ever-shrinking trap. Little prince, you are the lure and the game. And your monomania ensures you will be waylaid.

How many sins are engraved on your heart? How many do you believe are congenital?

Are you going to concede or double down?