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A recorded reading of “The Product of a Vicious Industry”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
A product of a vicious industry— subscribed, signed, and sealed, a hollow form of one, broken down into pieces unseen. Flaking in the tightness of a note, a symphony of pressure that chokes the throat, exposing a new nature, jaded intentions stripped bare. The shiny veneer fades, peels away— a cracked mask revealing decay. It consumes the innards, a hunger that gnaws with ruthless delight, while promises rot in the fluorescent light. Cleaving the soul with surgical precision, stripping the spirit of its primal vision. What was once whole is now divided, a carcass of dreams, gutted and derided. A product shaped to fit the mold, subscribed to a story already told. The industry tightens its grip, a machine that chews with a merciless lip. Flaking apart, piece by piece, it devours until there is no release. An existence bound to the gears that grind, a soul left shattered, left behind. In the tightness of notes and contracts signed, a fleeting moment where hope declines. For what is left when the innards are gone, when the cleaving ends and the lights turn on? Just a husk, a shell, a hollowed-out being, a testament to what once was seen— a soul consumed by a vicious spree, a product of an industry, a casualty of greed.
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