Offer Up Your Innocence, Please Enjoy The Side-Effects.

Looking at you here, I see your unique, unimpeachable true detour to offer up your beautiful, lobitical innocence that could truly help the system we provide at our overcrowded company. Happy birthday to the person: That auxiliary carpet burn you’ll become in a few hours. But before you actually go on this magnificent detour of matter, sinews spilling and spewing down the open holes of your rhetorical brain, we have to handle the boring medical business requirements so you don’t go all ballistic and plan to sue us.

Well, our service has had extensive play that might involve a blowout on one or both sides of the veins, popping like blisters in your arteries. You could become clinically insane by a psychiatrist on training day, spreading your blood across the neighborhood walls and floors, or maybe tracing orbital, interleaving knife drawings around your eye sockets. Why is it that? I know that you are the problem, signing up here knowing you might as well die here? Probably because I quickly noticed your self-portrait-like self-hatred, your inner being dying straight down the fibers of modern history.

Well, you’ve lost your innocence, and we lied. These aren't side effects. Their moments after. Enjoy the last few moments of your precious life looking up and around.

You agreed to this.

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