Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over all the vermin will drown
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Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you.--Friedrich Nietzsche---------------
Stood in firelight, sweltering bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone... Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hellbound as ourselves; go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.
Every man is a spark in the darkness. By the time he is noticed he is gone forever. A retinal after-image that fades and is obscured by newer, brighter lights.
To understand who he was, you have to go back to another time. When the world was powered by the black fuel. And the desert sprouted great cities of pipe and steel. Gone now, swept away. For reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior tribes went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all. Without fuel they were nothing. They built a house of straw. The thundering machines sputtered and stopped. Their leaders talked and talked and talked. But nothing could stem the avalanche. Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting, a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men. On the roads it was a white line nightmare. Only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. The gangs took over the highways, ready to wage war for a tank of juice. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and smashed.
This is your life, good to the last drop Doesn't get any better than this This is your life and it's ending one minute at a timeThis isn't a seminar, this isn't a weekend retreat Where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like Only after disaster can we be resurrected It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything Nothing is static, everything is appaling, everything is falling apartYou are not a beautiful and unique snowflake You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else We are all part of the same compost heap We are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the worldYou are not your bank account You are not the clothes you wear You are not the contents of your wallet You are not your bowel cancer You are not your grande latte You are not the car you drive You are not your fucking khaki'sYou have to give up, you have to give up You have to realize that someday you will die Until you know that, you are uselessI say let me never be complete I say may I never be content I say deliver me from Swedish furniture I say deliver me from clever arts I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth I say you have to give up I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may
got hips like cinderella. must be having a good shame. talking sweet about nothing. cookie, i think you're tame. i'm making good friends with you, when you're shaking your good frame. fall on your face in those bad shoes, lying there like you're tame.