A snapshot of the automation of human life

In the subtle mind of a blanc scene
lost in time
no period no judgment
the nihilist is called ian
his name ressonates equal to his peers and to all.

The man and woman,
both normal, standing in the far relative distance blank-
"not knowing they're closer than they thought".
Some derive great stories about their adventures of blank, stiff stories to me, judgment of others mostly.
Complaints to crank the handle of the dynamo powering the lightbulb,
waiting to die in syncronization with another.
The two people stand hand in hand, lost in each other's company.
Whilst stating each others love, they both hail judgement.

A small whimp down the time stream of blanc avenir...
we unjudgementally see,

The moral freak's they've come to be,
not concerned with what they see,
only looking at how they're king.
King of the morals shall I say,
no transvaluing,
no life,
only blanc motif, no inner transgression, a light that shines brighter as long as it thinks it shines bright.
But forever evolving,
into a light with no florecense.  

A monster is born.