Access Denied
by pnt_fain
· 15/01/2026
Published 15/01/2026 13:23
The card flashed a warning, a flat, angry red.
The iron bar hit where the hunger is fed.
The crowd pushes past in a blur of wet wool,
While I’m standing heavy, a glitch in the rule.
My palm on the chrome finds a smear of old oil,
Where a thousand successes have left their own soil.