Drain the potent fluid from them and they will cease to breathe

Here we are, three years later, and the epidemic has passed. The crazed, late night rantings of the world, of every young, middle aged, and decaying human beings -
have ceased.

Night after night , we had spoken out to or against this troubled world. Day after day, our solliloquies, our endevours, our passions had filled the air with a pungent odor. Our trials, our tribulations, our exultaions, our complications - every communicable portion of our souls we had unwieldingly thrown on display.

Yet now, we look around and find, yet again, a world lying dormant or dead. Fast alseep under the white noise that returns when there are no further transmissions to relay.

Some days, the lesser among us hope for a revolution - but in foolishness. For all the channels are left open only to broadcast utter neglegence for motion, complete disregard for the former openness - the wild vulnerability with which we all not so long ago displayed ourselves.

For humanity turns now only blind eyes and deaf ears. Only broadcasts our demise, our callousness, our resignation from such honesty.

Only emits lukewarm waves.