Jay-K47

Not a day goes by I'm not trapped in a fugue state, sinking in the city sludge which becomes more palatable as the oxygen level decreases.

As the traffic warden slaps £90 worth of laminate on my magic carpet, I wave him good day so I get to watch him walk into the wood chipper.

The non-physical versions of myself collide in an infinite cypher inside my head, and I'm next.