In a world where fear is ambient and trust decays by the hour, Vine and Punishment strips the illusion of control from 
everyday life and leaves only the threat that was always there. It doesn’t warn of collapse—it insists you’re already 
living in it, surrounded by silent rules, arbitrary power, and a quiet violence that feels normal only because it’s constant. 
A nod to *Dostoevsky’s exploration of guilt and survival, this piece plunges into a landscape where both reason and
 justice are slowly eroded, and where the individual is left to navigate the crushing weight of a broken world.

The streets are roots, entangled underfoot,
Each step’s a gamble, every move a threat.
No map can find where reason’s pathways put,
And silence breeds the loudest kind of debt.

A siren wails; it’s not a lullaby.
No mother soothes beneath this canopy.
We flinch before we even wonder why,
Where justice barters with insanity.

Trust rots like wood left out in endless rain,
While peace is locked behind a plastic smile.
Surveillance digs its channels through the brain—
You’re safe, perhaps, but only for a while.

Survival here takes teeth, not luck or prayer.
It’s not just out there—it’s already there.