ramblesbambles

[ramblesbambles]

Where can I go? I still wear the leash I made, I still fear the expectations of my peers. Disgusted with my flesh and fetishizing another outcome. The pantry is full of soon to expire foods. What Americana fantasy I partake in. I'm humble and grateful. I wouldn't want to suffer but I still pray for it. You'll miss the lazy days, you'll miss your trivial day to day struggles. Disgusting thoughts plague my bored mind.

[ramblesbambles]

I cannot put my experience into words today. It feels like a blur. Burger meat has spoiled I can taste it, stomach acid in my mouth, the connection between skull and spine hurts, I'm feeling claustrophobic

[ramblesbambles]

I can almost taste the iron on my tongue. Awaiting the eventual barrel of the gun. Not in a suicidal sense, but in an act of... Embarrassing amounts of guilt and happiness. It's more of a calming thought than a threat of killing myself. The gun will find me soon; but for now I shall try my best to live.

Good god I hate it

Disease, taxes, medication, governments, community, ego and infection. I'd like to think I'd live without such modern luxuries but my hubris will lead me to disease. I cannot avoid my community, or what is left of one.

I dream of leaving, working on my own. And living on my own terms. As all humans do, or at least fear.

Taking the possible judgement and venting into a reference or slang that the Internet has adopted in order to segregate itself? Gatekeepers vs the wannabes, the poser, the "don't try it, you don't look cool".

My issue is that I've grown comfortable in complaining and dreaming rather than actually going through the effort of being who I want to be. To the point where for the last 2 years I've been in a decrepit stagnation. Letting myself put a barrier between me and what can do through effort. That's the key word

Effort.

"What an awful word, it expects too much of mne. Sooner or later the effort that I put in will fade. The effort I make to strip myself of these familiar fears and stigmas.

Perhaps only dream because think that I cannot accomplish the few can realistically do. Perhaps make up these false ideas to distarnce myself from committing to myself and others. Perhaps I fear it. hate it, I want to try about it. Complain. Make excuses not to. Self loathing, all this envy for the fantastical.... I cannot describe it

Lust for the fantasy of living, rather than relishing the experience I'm in. Things won't matter if I were to integrate into life outside of my mind/algorithms. I won't feel shame for my gender, physique and clothing aesthetics. Or at least I hope. Jobs aren't the way to find friends, but they help in aiding my fear in others. I don't know, maybe I'm dreaming again.

[ramblesbambles]

It's hysterical, it's comical. It's too stupid to be real. We are so prone to committing the same atrocities we swore to fight against. I see why people pray for a god. An angry god. One that craves the blood that it gave us.

What more can I do? Wait for the nuclear holocaust? Prepare for the future that may or may not be? I'm more disgusted in our ignorance, my ignorance. We've been spoiled here in the west, we've always known conflict beyond our borders. We are accustomed to prejudice and fear. Perhaps this is our penance. The government isn't guilty, but what country compares to the United States. I assume I shall reside in the fantasy churned out by the systems I rely on. Purchase aesthetics to distract myself from the rot of the earth. Or should I radicalize? No, my own ego cannot be trusted. To lead or to follow, I am imperfect. All are, but I know whatever I'll do is no better than the sins of my ancestors. I crave the cultural genocide of this fascist Regime. Death to the currency we abide by. I can only hope for nature to take hold in my lifetime. I'm no chosen one, but I pray to be spared. As most life prays for. I wonder for how long I can last without medication in this new era of my life. How many days can I survive with my pretentious ego. How unfit for the raw beauty of nature can I be? Corpses are wrapped in plastic, cancer to replace our blood. Boxes to ferment our sludge. I hope they taste delicious.

[ramblesbambles]

The comfort of the faux mattress I lay on has given away to anxiety again. Princess and the pea.

Incoherent, even in my own mind. I'll make an excuse, I've always done so. Another ideology rant, another dream to decipher.

My previous rambles already show my distaste of current hierarchies. But I'm not immune to my solutions many many hypocrisies. A fascist government to control the masses in my ideal way. Playing god. Percentages, graphs and history has haunted my hopes. Blood of the upper classes won't suffice. A fault of fascism is that you cannot control the minds. Even your own will be subject to the addiction of control, death and the new scapegoat. Unfortunately, I'm unable to see past myself in order to be in the true neutral. My bias and prejudice makes me sickeningly human, no worries.

My needs and desire to live as I want will be haunted by that existential dread. How did I end up in this comically corrupt system? It's only mind breaking that the world we live in is real, not for it's nature or technical marvels. But for it's exploitation buy those who've granted themselves "power". Stupid rules really. Is it inevitable? Do medical breakthroughs only arise from money? When do we reject this fetish? And if we do, what would be lost? We are not a kind species. Well hit our chests and throw our sticks, but I have an understanding of the animals. I can forgive the animal before I can forgive a human. Perhaps that's my own fault, what makes me unlikeable. The natural world is held to such a romantic view, I find it easy to forgive and forget. The diseases, parasites, storms and stars. We can't talk to them, but we can understand their impact upon us. We cannot give them the same judgement as we give to others. Are humans inherently destructive? All things are, I think humans are inherently naive (myself included. This is only to soothe my ego, write down my manifesto. I am being narcissistic at this moment) and I'm willing to solve conflicts. Then again, limited resources have prompted so much war. We cannot be expected to be perfect. But I crave something inherently beyond our biological values. Not an evolution, but perhaps union. Unfortunately we would rather kill ourselves then let someone lead the world that isn't us. Is it right to say that we cannot wait for the death rate to surprise our birthrate? All fingers point to genocide but perhaps in my own prejudice... The old suffer the longer they're in this reality. They're shoved aside, made to be nostalgic relics for their children. It's an apathy I harbor, but the system that keeps them alive is the same who poisons them. Beige dungeons with trapped birds. They don't deserve it, they're often husks. No one should make 300k, no one should live past 90. No one should vote in a world that has moved on from their needs. Our leaders should be humanly prosecuted. Celebrities following are dismantled. We have rules that our government doesn't follow. Why should I? Self preservation? Lunatic selfish beliefs? Get rich? Stupid stupid stupid ideas

[ramblesbambles]

Gutted, stabilized and conforming.

I feel lighter, though food has become my new disgust. Being one of the few to benefit from the system created for people like me. Then again I am grateful and yet I wish to break the system. I wish I was able to watch, I have photos of what had happened. How generous, but I am a glutton. I crave to see my mortality, a sick way of watching a procedure that could easily kill me. It gives me satisfaction.

Imperfects blossomed in my youth. Nature exposed through nurture. Genes brought to the surface with trauma. Medicated. A beige couch, blue sky, grey faces. Medicated. Inflicting me with a desire left to be exploited. Conforming to this sick nostalgia I hear in my head. Motherly voices of disdain. Worry of an after life. Live as you see fit, and yet I step out to see a burning, dripping, money hungry rat. Feed the rat for your desire, feed the rat to inspire. Feed the rat your service. A common sentiment of course, but one un acted upon.

Be yourself but engage in change. Selfish vs selfless, it's not a hard balance. But the world is uncertain, and to change it, with the propaganda machines stories as my rulebook, I must protest. Boycott. Unfollow. Disgusting, if I wish to live my life as it is, I want to see these corporate rats burn. Euthanize, melt, castrate. We cannot be bound by these fictitious rules they pave. Government is not for us. I do not wish to be a neanderthal, but the government must fall, for a new youth based idea to prosper. Yet we are infected with greed and hate. We should only hate what hurts, not what confuses us. Contradiction will be mandatory. If only I were a god. A sentiment to bring myself out of the deep thought of extinction. Is it fair to use eugenics against those who prosper from their eugenic doctrine? Castrate the men who seek to breed like a virus. Impound those who harm. They are no gods, I am no god. We have reached the Pinnacle of Earth's capacity, what would they do once the last working man's child is born. All rich men and women would be divided yet again. Democrats and Republicans. No middle ground to sway, no elections to follow through. O i pray for Thier down fall. I crave to eat thier fatty flesh. I crave for modernity to fall for the new rot. Mushrooms will propagate, and I will be smiling in death. May the earth and it's animals live on, but may humanity begin it's decent. No more hydras, no more corporate, no more fictitious culture rivalries. Only man shall remain in my mind, the man of diversity and foresight.

[ramblesbambles]

I shouldn't care, but why do I care, my disillusionment of my experiences. Why do i cry to fiction? Why do I envy a story?

I'm sick of living these false realities that fester in my head. I hear the sirens. They beckon me. Why can't I drop my desire? Why can't I evolve from these confines? Why do I get jealous when others enjoy something that I like? I wish to have a true 3rd person view, rather than these loosely tied thoughts.

Why do I want to krillmyself when I'm happy? Why do I want to stop now? Could it be I'm misinterpreting emotions? I'm having to create lies to keep conversations. I want to be around friends but I wish to be solitary. I wish to live in something fantastical, but I don't want anything to change. I want to be a force, but I also want to be a daughter. I want to purge my convictions, but I want to shelter the babes. I want to wrap my hands around someone's throat, to feel that control, but my empathy grounds me. I fear judgement, I fear change, I fear so much. I want to be a passive consumer. A hyperbole in this age. I wish I didn't get so emotionally attached to these stories, fictions, games. It's a product driven by capital. Why do I crave you. My environment made it so. Ads, clothes with licensed characters, in the hospital that I was born in. Oh God those sirens. Oh God. You say nothing, I'm writing these ramblings and you. Aren't real. I pray, I wish, I ask, I offer. It's my ritual. Psychotic ritual to believe in a fantasy. To wish, as many before me; those who have suffered, those who are deserving. I wish for a custom flesh, to control. The sirens dip into a violin ballad. I see the age in your eyes, I fear meeting you in death. You're in pain and what I do is lay on my ass and type a nervous breakdown, all because I finished a story. How pathetic am I? Am I so easily manipulated by a story made from corporate greed? Can I even call this some creators passion project? Why do I worry over little things. I fluster myself. I pray, I wish, I offer my flesh. Why do I fear missing out on the human experience? I want to be there for my family, for my babe, for others. Why do I pray for change?

[ramblesbambles]

I've made myself a commodity. Hoping that my flesh can grant me wealth. That my mind can seduce. I'm hearing sirens everywhere, cellos bellowing and violins mocking me. I do believe them to be hallucinations.

Perspective; everyone is willing, everyone is wanting everyone is praying. Those who have prayed have not had my privilege. And yet I pray. No, not to a god. But what am I selfish to think that I am deserving of a miracle? Ego? The possibility of chance alone? Has there been any before me? Is this world truly sentient or am I manufacturing a reality, the world may be bound to my brain's continuity...?

I've consumed as all do, but I enjoy the art of capital. That is my flaw, I see this extinction of culture as the birthplace of art. Maybe that's why I'm never given an answer. I'm still bound, rather than taking the ideas, I'd rather that the physical copies be kept. Oh God, my flesh is beautiful but it's shapes and carved disgust me. Or at least the opinions formed by my environment have led me to believe so. I envy sculpture. I envy the painter. Everyone wishes this at some point. I'm not afraid of the decay of my flesh, I worry more so that the decay leads to nothing. I wish my brain would let me enjoy infection, for the moss to grow, the insects to crawl and burrow. To just rip out these human bindings. These mammalian, biological, scientific bindings. Even to live as myself I wouldn't change anything. Thus I pray. Thus I wish, I ask, I listen. I am bound to my greed of "art", but may I transcend my own consciousness. May I watch the artists, may I Shepard the wolves into the homes of the righteous. May I create statues where my limbs sway from my core. Perhaps this is why I'm susceptible to overthinking others'creations and realities. I'm don't hear sirens when I watch, play, or think of them. I don't want to be a Jesus, I want to be a force. I want to be a watcher, an artist, a cosmic flurry of dust. Now I'm getting away from myself. As I said before I am not deserving of this fantasy. Oh how I hate to enjoy, and may these confines be blurred. I don't wish to be delusional, but if that grants me my animalistic instinct of safety, so be it. How awful I sound, how awful. I'm not better, I am privileged, shouldn't that be enough? Why do I crave? Gluttony?

I'm tired of these human thoughts, these human philosophies. I'm a mutation of biology and I'm yet to understand what I am.

[ramblesbambles]

I see that now but I'm still afraid. It's just one speeding up the process of splitting ourselves. No matter what we do our finite world cannot sustain us.

It doesn't squander my vision, but it does make me pessimistic still. Sure I can disconnect and choose not to involve myself in consumerist practices. But it's almost imperative; self sustaining still needs preparation, mental and physical health needs treating, and safety / justice is often preferred. I can dream and murmur some prayers but the world won't answer. Unfortunately the world is going to collapse, at least the world I know. I just hope that the birds, cows, lions will outlive us. I can live a life without these needless things, but I've heard that the society of today has changed the minds of humans. That even in a world of no capital, I cannot believe that we'd simply work together for the "greater good". It's a blessing we have free will, but it has led to our present day issues.

Would knowingly feeding a culture that has 'benefited' " 1st world" countries do anything? Or even in my absence, trying to convince people who see the benefits of slave/consumerist labor be a fools errand? My words sing proudly of the Marx, but I do not believe I align with him. I don't want my thoughts to be categorized or dumbed down to make it susceptible to ignorant stereotypes. In my hypocrisy, I eat a premade meal, I play games, collect figures, I'm typing my thoughts into this web of "free speech". I've benefited from the 'economy', and my mental state may falter without it. I'm no saint to believe that these things should change, because I am feeding the beast. Everyone feeds the beast. You cannot do anything without feeding the beast. We've become reliant on it, and every green solution, progressive strike, communist and fascist government, new medical miracle, further understanding of science, and art to express ourselves. All are feeding the beast. I don't hate you beast, I just wish the ticks would stop lying to the dog. Taking what they need and jumping ship if necessary, the chunks of flesh will not suffice, the beast needs the whole dog to stay alive.

Im no intellectual, no philosopher. I'm simply using this post to process what I've learned, and sharing it to maybe start a conversation. I don't doubt what I said may be foolish, my beliefs will ebb and flow. Per usual. And I'll be sure to cringe once I read it again.

[ramblesbambles]

Is time a loop or are we as a growing population stupid. Of course this is my bias, my world view against yours. But don't you wonder why things aren't simple?

Nature isn't simple, but it's a balance of trial and error and that stagnation must be destroyed to encourage evolution.

What we form, a copy of that nature, is the view points of what we have of nature, and what is true, what has failed, what could be.

What is true, is that destruction is inevitable, what has failed is the idea of the "mass", merging and preservation of this current beliefs, what could be often is seen repeated.

We are flawed, of course we are. Not all minds are the same, desires or needs. Perhaps my flaw is that I believe every human and flora/fauna should be viewed in the lense of conservation and acceptance. Of course without its drawbacks, I believe that the animal can be respected and used, but a human should only be respected and talked to. The blame game. This or that.

I don't want to think of us as Americans are stupid, those who are registered obviously want change. But when you compare the options, look at the past, look at the future. Why go with the option that leads to hate? The other is stagnant for sure, but can be overthrown, it can be molded and rebuilt by a... Revolution. This molded apple will lead to a frenzy of fantasies and hate being inexplicably used to aid its paranoia. But dear god if it's this easy, if I here my father tell me "people tend to choose without looking deeper". I began to eat that mold too. I'm not better than them but why do they think this way? Tradition leads to a moment of peace before you realize the color you chose, the color your community told you to choose, subliminal or not. The color doesn't match your eyes. The color, opens its mouth to reveal its gold veneers.

Both colors are on the same palette, used in the same painting, its size dictated by the people. But the maker, where you bought that paint and the substance of it. Doesn't change.

This new putrid color is still red, but a red that has dried in it's tube. It needed a push, but its dried edges begin to scrape the paper. Removing everything before it, though the red cannot fill in those gaps.

The blue has remained the same, though the tubes rust has made it the blue warmer in tone. It speaks to the comfort, the warmth of red, but it has a blue horizon. Applying it to the paper, doesn't change much to the painting, some areas bleed together. The sky blues your cohorts painted seem out of place. You've seen other paintings use this blue, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Those who painted it often forgot to spread it around, leading it to seem rushed, and let on more imperfections.

I don't know what I'm writing about. I only know my distortions and memories. But the things I've been told to spit at have become my leader. A festering mass of nepotism, yesmen, and racism that somehow charmed the masses. Are we just naturally fascist? Has the youth reared thier heads, blaming the ignorance of nature. A nature that has never existed, only formed to meet the needs of those in power? Are they foolish to believe this one man will make things better? Make them feel respected? Giving the dream they've vouched for, asking for this fabricated birthright that has been born from inadequacy/propaganda of the past? What do we deserve as humans? Shelter, food, water, loved ones. But I think grasping the idea that the community is made for accommodating the thoughts of its members, and to talk about them in an effort to understand our own human nature. And understanding that even with your niche ideas can be reasoned or unwound takes time. We made this government too quickly to think of the basics. Since the dawn of classes, the farmer and the elite. And it's more recent additions, I wonder if we have made this elaborate fantasy to keep us distracted. And to continue the nature of destruction, instead of steering away for a moment, revising, amending. We are making a short laughable tragedy of our existence instead of making peace with what we are given. I'd rather die to the Earth's natural cycle, rather than the narrow misjudgements of my species.

[ramblesbambles]

Why do I do what I do.

My head makes stories about anything. Stories in pre-existing and within my own worlds. I want to write them down, catalog every thought, even post them. I remember a teacher telling me that my writing is "good", what inflection she used had faded in memory but I knew it was to keep me happy. Especially during a time of suicidal doubt. I'm enraged and invigorated to write. Though I've never gotten the same praise from other teachers. I'm prone to jealousy, it's unfortunately a parasite that still resides within me. My mother reads like she has no tomorrow, but I know If she reads what I make it's nothing more than a mother trying not to break the will of her child. These thoughts plague me, distracting me from academic and career success. Or that's my alibi. They're nothing new to the stereotypical stories portrayed in the media. No revolutionary ideas, no compelling morals. They entertain me, but the yearning I have is to entertain others while being seen. I'd like to imagine all writers are selfish, why else would they publish their works? If not for social or monetary gain.

The Internet doesn't know me, it doesn't always have honest or fair criticism. It doesn't mean the world will laugh at me. But every lolcow that pops up, every laughing stock of the hour, every fail compilation makes me fear the worst. Especially when it comes to pre-existing worlds. Ones with acrid fan bases. You're bound to get criticized, but I fear the numbers. The doxxing, the threats for a menial mistake or choice. I fear being stupid, though no one knows anything when it comes to... Everything. My mind can spew sentences that can confuse others. I only wish for a polite paragraph detailing my faults, not a blunt "this shit is ass".

I'll make it here in a moment, or at least start. The stupid feeling will fall upon me but at least I'll be rid of these embarrassing thoughts. I'll post it of course but my heart will implode. I just hope that those who read it won't shred it into smaller pieces.

[ramblesbambles]

A personal quest, though I'm uneasy about the outcome.

I do desire, and most do, but the desire fades quickly. Back into the emotional 'blah' I know. I wonder if it's just my nature trying to claw at me, the reptilian brain trying to writhe out of my head. I do wish for a true neutral, but I wasn't born that way. I'm bound, but I'm not too mad about it. I enjoy the senses, I enjoy the warmth and cold. But at night I seem to contemplate my penance. If I could carve it out, rebraid those wires in my head into a better person.

I hate it when I enjoy things. It's gutteral, deep, and disgusting. It can be as simple as enjoying a TV show, book or music. I want to purge this 'joy', I want to feel the true neutral. I want them out of my head so I can focus. Oh I'm a failure. A child with potential but now I sit complaining. Oh why won't I succeed? Because you won't try. Oh why can't I focus. Because you lack motivation. I hate that word. It seems to me that it's thrown around in any situation. You need the motivation, but you must find it yourself. Wow, thanks I guess. I do feel motivation but it wouldn't support the life I live. An era of painters living in hostels has passed. Everyone and their mother is an artist. Digital, acrylic and ink. It's not special, I'm not special. Maybe I'm more worried about leaving my "mark", aka my ego, so I may live on through art. Where's your motivation? You drained me of it since I was young. Slamming my head against an unmoving wall, and sometimes a brick falls. Offering me a step up, but it's too rare. "You need special Ed classes", I've never succeeded. At the Pinnacle of school I passed that wall to reach another. It's the same damn wall. Two years of recap. Easy for you, but it took me 7 damn years to learn algebra. Americans must be a jack of all trades. Those who specialize are endorsed and grow through green paper. I'm being petty, I'm trying to give myself a reason not to work hard. I hope this isn't the case because it would mean the propaganda got to me as well. Damn it.

[ramblesbambles]

My mother bakes her own cake.

Independent and clingy. No one else can make it for her. No one else can ask her why. I don't understand it, she's done it for 20 years. Hot butter slithers down her arm, the mixer coughing back up flour to her face. I want to help you, I don't want to hold our arguments as a reason not to help.

You've come to be irritable. The website buffering, the butter burning, someone not having their food from the order. It scares me, makes me indifferent. This isn't about me, but you are within my life so much I fear I may be a factor. You've broken my trust, downplayed my feelings. You are still my mother. I hate that you think you're a horrible person. You're my mother. Maybe I'm quick to forgive and forget, but your presence still makes me happy. For every privilege I'm given, I thank you.

As a child I do not know better, allegedly. As your child I am nothing more than that. Why continue the thing that makes you mad? I hate it. I understand anger, but why is it your default? Try and try again but you never rest. You blow up. I fear the aftermath, I shall not show my feelings because you are my self loathing mother. I want to make the cake for you.

[ramblesbambles]

I want to walk away but I'm scared of the outside.

I don't want you to step over, try to relate to me, I still hate you after all. Despite your changes. I've known it for awhile now but the confirmation fills me with... Mixed emotions. I am the problem. I am the child who wants everything to myself. I am the one who claims a stolen identity. I wonder if they regret it. Why have 3 piglets for them to grow up contorted, strange in the mind. For them to go through therapy, critiquing your skills and past actions. I regret my actions, I see you as family and I am who I am. It is.. whatever it is.. I loathe it. He has only been in a digital echo chamber. Hostile to the outside world and yet you agree with him. It's not a delusional thought of his but it's definitely exasperated through the algorithms and circle jerks you see online. I will not share a part of my identity with it. I am petty, a bigot, and a swine. But I see you as the Photuris. The imposter. I won't accept you or your ways. Live as you are but I will not find it in my heart to reconcile with you in this moment.

[ramblesbambles]

Why do I hate you. You've done nothing but be my friend but I hate you.

Do you remind me of myself? Your hubris, pseudo-intellectual thoughts, the act of wanting to be different, chronically online behavior... Or is it something else. I wouldn't be surprised if it was my own reflection that I'm stabbing but you are... Awful. Not in the way you're actively sabotaging, being a narcissist, or anything. You just wanted to be my friend. Though I am the one with the poison, I used you for attention. My fear of being alone wrapped you in a false relationship. And yet... I hate you. It's not because I don't want to feel loved or have an attachment. I simply hate you.

Your fashion, your stride, your thoughts and speech. I hate it. You stare at me with those dim eyes as I tell you of my woes, to just try to fix me. Listen. I've told you to listen, but your experiences of being an online dweller make you the unhelpful mediator. You become the two faced fuck you are. Maybe mom and dad fought too much. Maybe you don't have control of your own life so you choose to mediate in others. You're a terrible referee. Going to both sides of the battlefield. Spitting on decaying bonds and bullying either side. You are no intellectual. You take things too literally. I am not either but your wet cardboard personality haunts me in my dreams. Dank, glintless eyes. A fantasy you spew. Incompetence is your name and I wish to kill you.

You never confided in me (except for AI and distanced companions you've never met in person), your words have nothing in them and I've never cried, rejoiced or got mad for you. I couldn't feel emotion for you. You barate your maker, you enact in rebellion to spite them. You feel fake. You are fake. You are a child in a... Whatever your body is. Feminine yet you're a man. Smaller than what you think you are. Imagining yourself as the lion that does no wrong. When I have I heard you say anything beyond a sorry? No "I was wrong", no self reflection. Disgusting. No future beyond false hope, no place is these lies you tell yourself. Inhuman.

My words come from a place of hate and immaturity. Narcissism, projecting and self-loathing. But dear God I hate you. I know it's best to keep to myself and learn to not keep a bond that actively makes me the greater evil in the end. This is no "I'm the victim" plea. I am wrong for keeping you beside me and I need to grow from it. But my conclusion remains; i hate you.

[ramblesbambles]

I see you rotting. Molting, scraping the walls. We're conserving you. You're in a white tent with bars. You must be shown to have peoples sympathy. They must pay to see, and for them to forget. Why is your life dictated by money? When was it when your ancestors weren't governed by this currency. The earth was your captor then, but now it's a smaller cage. I want to see you free, implant the instincts you need to survive. I'd rather see you die to mother nature than the hands of man. It was the way. But now as the world burns you sit behind thin wires, concrete walls, a stick or two. And eyes. Millions of eyes. I'm not peta, I'm not righteous. But by god may you soon be free. May there be an Eden for you and only you. May the fire we caused not melt your flesh. May the others who are free be able to rejoice in the fall of man, reset the world.

Everyone seems so scripted, maybe it's by design. How did we come to this comedic display of greed. Not just the ceos, governments and capital. But the people too, I'm blind in other areas but how can so many be blind to our consumption. I refuse to believe that others are this infantile in their beliefs. Though they may say that of me. And if I choose to believe some, over the others that makes me just as stupid. But my brain is unplugged from my body, my eyes glaring at the polluted ponds and soil. May I rest my anxiety and accept a new era? Then what would I be on this earth. Is this my biblical Armageddon? Am I led a stray? I wish I can kill without remorse, they say violence isn't the answer but the Internet has proved that texting/talking means nothing either. It's the only way to silence one mouth, though it may echo through others. It wouldn't be one man, or one government/company. It would be a radical idea. Unfortunately, the ouroboros reigns true. Everything circles, wishful thinking, suffrage, manifesto, violence, conquer, fascism. God is a fascist. But the earth is the mother. I'm no hippy, but I'd rather believe in an earthly spirit than a god who resembles man.

[ramblesbambles]

Zombie body. Thin calf's, hump on the neck. Zombie. Bloated stomach, double chin. Zombie. My eyes are falling out as I put in my contacts. My brain turned to mush as I try to impersonate a competent person while on here. Stupid poems, stupid line of thought. Stupid is a child's slur, why do I still use it?

I almost killed my own blood, wheel in my hand and a foot like lead. I can feel the tension, replaying the sequence over and over. Though despite my failure, I do sometimes wish to kill a kin. Though the feeling fluctuates, I know I'm in the wrong. I know I'm not right for my reasoning, but it's almost sporadic how the feeling flickers when I'm talking to him. I see him as human, though it's quick to realize my anger is purely out of... Mommy issues haha. Perhaps I'm more spoiled than I know. It's a common occurrence. But every time I see my mother next to him. Him being coddled as he complains about blips on a screen. I hate his lust for technology. He, as they say, has never touched grass. Not in the literal sense but he's never escaped the confines of his digital thought. Sure, people can enjoy whatever they want. But by god when I see him drool as he purchases another vr, because the other doesn't have the new "feature" disgusts me. Technophile, engrossed in the circuits. I want to stab him out. I am radicalized.