Consume Product

>The father's stare is the future. A long path of sweat, blood, pain, and triumph waiting to swing itself into his son's chest like a sledgehammer. His son will know total desolation.
The taste of blood in his mouth from a freshly struck nose.
The torment of a thousand paper-thin nagging bureaucrats crushing him for the sin of existing throughout his entire education.
The government who robs him of his hard earned bounty in exchange for trying to recruit him into dying wastefully for the interests of parasites.
The reckless hateful cruelty of a scorned love, half wanton from a clueless girl, half inflicted on himself by unchecked projections.
The sinking emptiness of wasted sloth compiling around to suffocate him in shame like a shrine of unsorted refuse in a smelly bare room.
The stale hours in the dead of early morning in a parking lot of a gas station triggering the hairs on the back of his head like an antelope hearing a twig crunch.
The looming dread of responsibility, failure, evaporating bloodline, and decaying society all swirling into a gargantuan tempest blocking out the sun and enshrouding him into total hopeless darkness until he learns to wield his anger so brutally that he self immolates into a dense burning star to carve out his own path.
The promise of freedom dangling on the periphery of his vision as he claws his way out from under the ruins.

i miss reading this kind of litrature, high effort, melancholic and thought provoking