Janey accuses me of chasing jailbait. She bursts into angry tears, asking if it's because she's getting older. It's true. She's aging more noticeably every day... while I am standing still. I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth. These people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. They claim their labours are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It's too late. Always has been. Always will be. Too late.
Janey accuses me of chasing jailbait. She bursts into angry tears, asking if it's because she's getting older. It's true. She's aging more noticeably every day... while I am standing still. I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth. These people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. They claim their labours are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It's too late. Always has been. Always will be. Too late.
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