Behind my parked car stands an industrial shell, a line of dead loading docks and further back, there is this flat roof which is slowly slinking back to earth while the surroundings are pockmarked with refuse heaps, pyramidal offerings from all those 'not in my yard' proponents, now assiduously courting the 'art' of irresponsibility, which structures all those correctly thinking social entities;

As a lawyer once said 'anybody can steal'...promoting business being the essential heartbeat pumping the blood under the dart vader style black robe, no starry skies there that is certain, but yet these clones keep cycling cuttingly through the skies, smiling all the way on their bicycles, all with a common denominator, the name is 'justice';

It is like that one 'truth', these have nor leave any address, they are like 'gods' never 'seen' yet always hovering behind all those oh! so shiny social curtains, a theatre never opening;