Barpocalypse

by Anonymous

Under the cover of another night, I failed once again to stop myself from returning here. I manoeuvre the heavy metal plate covering the entrance in a practised manner and comfortably myself in a cool, damp space, characterised by front of me is far more interesting than anything else down here because a feeling repeatedly calls me to the top.

So, I ascend, and after passing through one of two doors which both lead to the same oddly imagine the moments right before the end. tears they shed to keep this place intact. An institution sacred as this runs to be worn down. Keeping it going meant keeping your head just above the water. An empty carcass of its previous life is all that remains. It wasn’t meant to mind. I try some improvised version of meditation, hoping that somehow the answer will come from within. What made its visitors disappear?