It was too quiet here in the gutters of society, the weak had been preyed on and the strong had moved on to find new pleasures. The ghosts of motion, the visions of nothingness plagued by a desire to be content with the undesirable. The silent understanding we all had was something that couldn’t be unseen, the ways that all of our pieces fit so perfectly together without ever having to change our own shapes. God but it’s been years since those days. It's been years of bloody fingers and late nights it’s been years of ignored doctors visits and empty screams. We still all fit perfectly together like a twisted jigsaw puzzle the same way. We still all grow with each other to make one large picture of passion. It was only the picture that changed not the pieces. It’s unclear who the first one to change, who had decided we needed a new beginning. I was the last one to change, I was the last one to give into misguided hope and false markings of promise on disfigured skin. I pinned myself to the wind of sloth, the sin of stillness and an empty hollow heart. My distrust in the world around me came from my own knowledge of my unworthiness to have safety, something my brothers didn’t always understand. I fell in love with envy in a world where my every step was counted by the weights that compressed my shoulders. I miss the ways that it all used to be before this all started before we all became pawns in some masterminds game of money and power. I miss when lust curled tightly into greed when gluttony was always pressed against my side. These we're the memories of someone whose life felt so foreign to me, when wrath threw his addiction into fire instead of letting them feed it to him through his mind. We were brothers of sin castrated by big media who fell in love with our abilities to disconnect ourselves from our needs and create passion from our blood, sweat and tears. This was all a game of temptation and when we were given to him on a gold plate of promise we become more than just temptation. We became all those stories you heard in the news of false idols with of sewn up mouths. Dead men can’t talk. And sins of the flesh will always conceal themselves behind each other. This is all leading up to the main story, the scene set in silence from power houses of idealistic roches. Before we begin let me say that when comes ones end of days always will bring another's promised future.