Silas Thorne's Journal

Design,slave,design!

Trapped within these walls Mr. Marceau slaps silently, over and over
like a tumbling kitten.

Gracefully, I assault my thought's companion.
Patiently, I wait, till waiting's lungs have burst.

Screaming 'Cry, Freedom, Cry!' still no sound emerges.

Smash this close-fitting coffin.
Shake the ragged eardrums of the night.