Enslaved Hope

Noises from the furnace, the clicking... click . click. then the firing. The lighting of gas, the blower becomes loud. The intrusive thoughts to a slow thought. what if the gas filled the room, the furnace malfunctioned. in thought, you knew the unusual click. click is abnormal. Beauty is you do nothing. Hope for a fiery death. the thoughts unconsciously in while present in to ignorance. Logically the probability is dismal, the feeling of emptiness. welcoming this explosion. Does this make a human suicidal?

Birth, raised, taxed and poverty upon existence, the life as death is welcoming. Entirety in this third world country with birth, is prison, in pain, poverty, nothing, a life without freedom. Molded to work in necessity in helping this pain, the misery, ease our prison walled existence. Rewards in bonuses, spurts of euphonic dopamine, lies in constructed hope. The word hope is the very wall in invisibility. Cults, literature, noise, and control to ease this born imprisonment darkness has this hope word. human imagination, thoughts are not controlled from a group, cult, or agendas. Our prison is birth. The first breathe. Accept the true darkness or imprisonment to a life in agonizing pain. either or in prison. 

I question to continue this agony. Hope is powerful.