Atrophy: Breakdance

When a spot on the ceiling starts talking, what else is there to do? Go insane.

Willow Pines is thrust into a world of unknowing. Suffering. Dying. Hating. All the bad things. For the deeds of what? A god? A cult? A thought? Numbers. They go up.

Torture and torment. Horrible little things. A human key. A spot. A fire. Two fires. Horror? Comedy? Action? Some redemption? Definitely some revenge. Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let them control you. Stop. Fight them. Kill them. Kill the First. Kill the Second. Kill the Third. The Fourth? Maybe. The only real power is at the end of a long rifle. Pull the trigger.

Break down the body. Break down the system. Break down the world. Break down the people. Break down the mind. Break down the friends. Break down the episodic configurations of each and every day. Stop. Break down the page. Break down the atom. Break down the dance floor. Break it down. Break and dance. Breakdance. Atrophy. Breakdance. Atrophy Breakdance. Atrophy: Breakdance.