Unwillingly Forgotten by Lapsuselux

The room reeked of antiseptic and the acrid tang of freshly painted acrylic walls. A thin veil of grime clung to everything—corners blackened with fertile mildew, whispering of decay. It was dawning on the hooker: the hooks were in her, deep and unrelenting. She had given in—one last trick, just enough to satisfy her impatient pimp and to buy the rush that would dull her nerves into the illusion of peace, to silence the ache for one more day.

Underwear of varying sizes, obvious trophies of a sickly corrupted and unbalanced kind of sport. a rotting deafness hung still and reeking in the air and all strewn throughout the scene was items, static, laying formless in a chaotic heap, tangled with the tools of her biotic trade—remnants of a routine known too well by any working girl walking the stroll.

Ahead, a window beckoned—an imagined escape, quickly dismissed. It wasn’t hope she saw, but the dimming glow of a fading dream. The steel cage enclosing it wasn’t to keep danger out, but to trap her in. Beyond the bars, figures loomed under the harsh fluorescent light of a filthy, subterranean level—gaudy, sickly, inescapable. This, she knew, was where it would end. Whether in hours, days, or weeks, the nightmare was drawing to its close.

Her intent was subdued at the thought of what lay ahead—at the hands of those who had become pragmatist's in cruelty, acolytes of murder and fiends for the eternity of dark enthroned souls. .
This is a descent into the hidden hell of the world—realms suffered silently by those who’ve lost their voice, their will. It is in these shadows where truth finally dawns: the victims are many, their fates sealed and their names forgotten—not by choice, to be unwillingly forgotten.

HEAVY WORLD VIEWS

Oppressive weight of the eternal dilemma of humanity's insolvent indifference.

Experimental art, sound, concept, theory & prejudice.

Mass Graven Image
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