Survival-mechanism

[Sepia]

The words get lost in the ether the second that he speaks them, he proves to us the materialization of ideas but he does nothing more. He is human in the way they used to call barbarians back in the day and age where everything made sense and blood was a cheap currency. Blood has grown more and more expensive as the leaders of the world have understood that the lower class and the filth of the world will disappear if one tries to root it up and send it to war for all classes are ethereal. He is a savage swine but he is human, he fucks and he eats and he drinks and thusly here we come, the new race, the new class, the new
The new men and women that follow only the biological imperative, leaving everything else secondary

Here are the silent masses that do everything but stay silent every friday and saturday, here do we find the people responsible for the over-population of the globe, here is the nemesis of neglect. There is no 'we' anymore for we are dead, lying in dry trenches and riverbeds, dying from alcohol poisoning or rotten ideals, dreams and hopes, we are all broken, that we know but some of us try to do something with the brokenness, we've been there and we begun mending it but it fell apart, the ground it stood on rejected it, a dying body rejecting a fresh heart so we did what most people don't do, we tried to get something from it, something that lay behind or on the side or opposite the fucking road from it but we tried and we kept trying, part of our curse as your curse is what we find despicable

but

we're too tired of your words as they sink emptily into our bellies and swell them and we're tired of your flies and what the fuck does it really matter to you if we landed on the moon or not and why don't you try to just act the way you so obviously wants or not even that, just do something, please. Do something, anything and it makes my day so much better when I can talk to a human in three d instead of two d because that is what you are my princes, ye who will rule the world, ye who believe in someone elses idea of time, ye who likes your time to be linear

For princes you are and you hold a certain point in my heart but I've grown weary from you, grown weary from cataloguing your emotions ideas hopes and dreams and you are a story to me now, nothing else, nothing more involved and you're harry potter on the shelves. I'll buy you in new editions when my children are born and I will do it yet again when my grandchildren draw breath but you've been read, there is nothing in you now other than that which invites specialists and sadists.

An empty hourglass you are and it appears that the sand is running both ways simultaneously and while we hear the creaking points of linearity we hear your brains actions beyond the words we pick up from the ether as we sit on the moon and we just built a receiver and everyone of you is out there and i am here and we're all listening to the same commands and some of us drink because of it, some of us go into politics because of it and some do something about it and some others are just built that way but some of us believe it as gospel, as canon but it doesn't really matter because even how diehard solipsistic you are, we're still stuck here together and my hate for you will never end, nor will my love

I choose you away from my reality, I deny your existence for you have shown me nothing that lingers

[Kai]

The dehumanization of people to base instinct, the linear lack of dimension in "those who rule" and the range of emotions one feels about all this, all rolled into a single package. Amen, amen.

[Cramulus]

hip hip hoorah


there are such great images in here

I love the barbarian bit at the beginning
I like when it switches to talking to the princes
and the second to last paragraph wraps it all together like a christmas present

[Sepia]

You are too kind but I'm glad you like it