Midnight skies, a white moon above them. Maybe a couple cigarettes, or a joint i'm not really sure. But by these nights you need smoke gently comming out of your lungs and going to reach the moon. Because you wont. It's funny or depressing how you always stay on your space rock and never get to go anywhere else. You'll always stay on the same literally shitty soil. Resigned to live under an economic regime that dictate what you will like, find cool, dislike, hate. An economic system that choose to help or not help you, and people with disabilities know that it rarely choose to help you. So they will let you die. If you're dead you can't show the flaws of that system anymore. Because humans are now meant to produce, to work. But if you can't work you're not seen as a human. This goes with any ideology that sees work as the way you're meant to live. From fascists to social democrats they want you the alcoholic to be dead rather then have to pay you food, t