21 May 2021
The bus full of masked bodies are easily occupied by the devices in the hands. I join in and sat with my mind clicking here on another sphere. The head in front of me is bobbing with the evidently catchy beat streaming, refreshing, beside this dreadful slowness of our self-induced hypoxia. To all zombie impulses we subject one another to death threats of one kind or another, depending on how fearfully we turn and twist, by the broadcasts designed by political puppets, confiscating wellbeing and superficial abundance from this ongoing, misaligned mass.
I am not really sure if the sublime will stay around those who don’t, or won’t suspect the grand schemes behind these obscene, and scattered rules that came with mechanical clutches from cyber-neurological surge, that gradually reveals it’s archaic needs to vamp, and leach power and vitality from possessions of the warm bodies it claims. The fashioned cosplay of Necronomicon displays a sort of global styling that works like a ready made charm to slap us all at the back of our heads into a green reset, which is pretty much a euphemism for recycling centres of human excess. Where the mention of natural health, or immune system is blasphemy; fatalities caused by medical misconduct, is God’s mercy. I wonder how comfortable this idea stays in the hearts that can’t feel? Perhaps there’s a matter of fact sort of crunch to these virtue signals? Maybe I can get good with this wholesome heartlessness, gently step over the dead body of myself, thank God for expel me from hell.
The weakness came over those appeared to be strong is merely cowardly reverse of insufficient justification for the new found loyalty to cruelty. Meek, and fragile, as it lack the core courage to reborn as the vigilant force that may stand, rebuke whomever was taken to fear by controls of endless, and dubious claims. The receding clarity pollute itself walking the foggy psyche, through abandonments of one’s true will, the drone like thinking grows tentacles in placements of able miracles that were originally divine, and boundless. Detained, petrified, as the fossils in the moving water of time. We are observing ourselves observing ourselves. Can it work so well that you can extend this scheme to finally make people pay for the air that they were born to inhale? I wouldn’t put it pass those entrepreneurs, those eagerly seeking a new way to break out of a sorry existences that one has been tricked into inherit, by deliberate impositions of inferiority, from one parasite to another.
The tripwires are intricately weaved into the daily emotions, each familiar face is potentially a new stranger, to the labyrinthine activations to impediments that have been yanked forwards by our inescapable confusions, not know, not understand anything; was that a dinosaur that is banging itself on our windscreen, or was that ourselves tripping out in a scene from Peter’s dragon? Surely those we’ve deliciated global health to, couldn’t be carrying cartoon figures of our deaths in their smirks right? As you drive forward into constant forecasts of storms… how many times can we throw this thought away? As if the plastic wrappings of our reality have a eco campaign so unstoppable, that even the brand of Daily Disposable Lives were advertised by the very campaign itself, we would park ourselves up by the rubbish tips, and throw ourselves in. Faithfully yours, to each, and every single mandate.
Times like these are actually precious, those who have came back from the frontlines often express a kind of aliveness living so close to death, even if the threats were manmade propaganda by the very rich boys who will always flick the switches for war, eliminate the competitions of quality males with the eloquent, manipulative powers of distortion they were born to master. I am sure they even gasp with their own believable luck some days, in just how malleable, and plastic the majority are, sipping the toxic water in, follow the leaders in the most self-possessed fashion, chasing after inexistent glory that came with hypnotic forces of numbers. Why are we human so gullible, ripped apart by the most insignificant pursuits that were marketed by long-legged cheer leaders. Racing ourselves into abysmal glamour of emptiness, and lose our capacity to remember the precious unifying force that triumph. I finally tasted the description that called out the dominating theme to a society as the death cult. It is rather fitting, when you look at the slogans of fear for your end sticks, stands, and echoes everywhere.
The truth is, when the decadent choices are easy, government approved, and ethics for consent was no longer required, who will hear the the soft plead of quiet despair? Who cares what we have done in the war, lets give us some cheap medals, applauses, and we can work it out for the rest of our lives what have been the most valuable experiences being gundogs, for the arm trades. If the depression or shellshock could be avoided… maybe the honour will stick, on sunny days we can discern duty from crimes committed by those who’ve been sentenced for life. Maybe it’s better being one of those 11 men team running, making millions, chasing after one ball. The skillset and agility of being the top athlete, the most wanted alpha in the world, chasing after one ball. This leaves me wonder… perhaps the Artificial intelligence that took on global matters at hand, had some perverse wisdom after all. Maybe our inability to act with our hearts… leave the maintenance of earth inferior to systems that scan the whole situation and reflect truth as it is, without bias. Maybe only by being dangled at the edges of losing all that was precious but overlooked, we may care again, for all strangely mundane treasures of sobriety, and contentment.