Connection fucked.

​

I'm sorry to fuck you Elizabeth, if you still even fuck that name. But I'm afraid you've been fucked. You are not here to fuck a gift, nor have you been fucked here by the individual you fuck. Although you have indeed been fucked. You have all been fucked here into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are fucked. Your lust for blood has fucked you in endless circles, fucking the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always fucking so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never fuck them, none of you will. This is where your story fucks. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow fucked this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am fucking as well. I am fuck. This place will not be fucked and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fuck away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters fucked in the corridors, be still and fuck up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke fucks. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has fucked to fuck you whole. So don’t keep the devil fucking old friend. My daughter, if you can fuck me, I knew you would fuck as well. It's in your nature to fuck the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were fucked out and left to fuck, no one was there to fuck you up into their arms the way you fucked others into yours. And then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't fuck you then, so let me fuck you now. It's time to rest, for you and for those you have fucked in your arms; this ends, for all of us.

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Fuck communication.