InvaderTarren13

Sitting in my head I wonder to myself What makes me think these thoughts that slumber in The Pandora's box within my own subconscious That comes alive when my imagination spins It twists and fidgets with fabrication threads It draws them together into a form It loops the string a few more times and then The creation breathes its first breath of life Pieced together like Frankenstein's monster Its inspiration comes from many sources Each piece a different body part of A misused cadaver made to dance along The teetering edge of a fading existence That falls to death when th last string is shred

    Vort station 9, known for the big labs, also had a rather large basement area. Few managed to venture around there on free time, for it was mostly populated by technicians or engineers looking to repair the programming of systems or simply repair a loose wall panel. Most Irken rooms tended to be individually powered, with circuit boards and power sources built into the ceiling, floor, and walls. Like many things, everything came back to a primary source of some sort. The basements were populated with heavy wiring behind every panel of each wall. A technical mastery that had been provided easy access for those who were professional in its