It has come to my attention that many people do not really have a basic understanding of steam and Steampunk technology. While there are many exhaustive references available for steam technology, here is some basic information concerning steam power.

Often, people who are affected by mental illness can be described as eccentric, aloof, cold, and many other adjectives with negative connotations and people who are suffering from a mental illness are also unable to address such comments due to their inability to interact with people in what is considered a normal manner. In essence, people who are considered part of "normal" society are adding on to their problems with the general agreement to shun them out of society. But why is it that people in everyday society act this way?

A derisive snort followed these words. "Ever the optimist. Don't let her fool you. The moment you start treating them like normal people they take another turn for the worse. Only this time they'll have you in their crazy cross-hairs." My new fan laughed at himself. Charming.

Overhead,
the blue skies of prevailing wisdom
command you to fall to your knees...
farther away, to get closer.
Prepare for your soul to be seized.
Given up. Cast away.

Drowsy eyes awaken quick.
His enchantment waltzes in.
Reflexive straightened posture.
Between them the ballroom floor.

See, by 2045 humanity had grown to 14 billion, far outpacing all projections. The Earth just couldn't handle it. I could go on about the CO2 storms that suffocated tens of thousand in Hong Kong and Rio de Janeiro in minutes, or the spread of hyper-allergies, or the sudden meteoric increase in terminal cancers. I could talk about the flooding in California and along the Gulf Coast, the outbreak of Neo-Bubonic in Eastern Europe, or the nuclear failure in Pyongyang, but in truth nothing mattered so much as the food shortages.

I felt the loss of my bleeding heart
Loneliness engulfed me
Dragged down by its weight
Desperation and darkness
Devoured my soul

Jake sat in his truck and sighed. His hands were sweaty on the wheel, no sound but the engine idling. He had pulled up to the place because his fence had told him the owner of the house died and left loads of valuable merchandise alone. Not that he could tell by looking at the place; it was a two-story wreck. The paint was peeling in several places, even in the meager light shed by the moon and his headlights he could see patches of the rotting, corpse-gray wood beneath the sun-faded apricot paint.