nothing has changed about us.. this generation isn't any dumber than the ones before it.. the only difference is the exposure.. our parents and their parents and the parents before that.. they were just as shitty.. but now we are all exposed to it.. we have instruments to have our 5 minutes.. and goddammit how i despise it...


someone told me once that there's a right and wrong
punishment is sure for those who cross the line
but
it must
not
be true
for jerk offs just like you

maybe it
takes longer
to catch a
total asshole

i'm tired of waiting

maybe it's
just bullshit
i should play god
and shoot you myself

archival start...

.

.

.

running...

the queen is overthrown. dead with her handmaidens around her. dead in the middle of that marble floor while the heathens still raped her dead body. tears sweat and blood. she held the parts in play. they called for revolution. they didn't know what they wanted. they invited this. now it ate and ate and ate. i saw it. like a chain of events leading back to the beginning. i saw the land fall away and this maw take its place. this untested and undeserved form of freedom. the queen is dead and we are lost. and it was lost. i felt it slipping out of my grip. i gritted my teeth. i squeezed harder. i looked into his eyes as his grip went slack in mine. my tears did nothing to sway him. the needle in his spine leaking fluid into his body. the vacant eyes beneath him. i refused. i dug my heels in. arched my back. screamed at him to fight back. the queen was dead but not him. oh god not him. his jaw went slack as his hand spasmed. his tongue black, his eyes glazed. you are alive still. please. you can't. gone. he fell down as i fell back. the dirt and smoke danced as my wind left me. who know how far down it went. without him then what? echoes and fragments trying to assemble to tell me what to do. shaking. the crown was mine but what is a crown with no kingdom. i heard the screams as they got closer. they were almost on me. anger like the flames consuming the walls. i was up before it hit me, sword drawn and sobbing. heart cracking with each moment. the knot in my throat wouldn't let me swallow. teeth clenched and vision blurred. i would kill as many as i could. i would stand for the lost. i wouldn't let them take me like a dog, chained and broken. i wouldn't give in. i am more than this. lungs closing. resolve slipping.

get out

run? run where?

fight? fight how?

you are already chained by your inabilities and shortcomings. you have nothing to stand on. what strength? you lost that when he fell. i won't kill a one. but they will kill me. they will lasso me and drag me through the streets. inject me full of that same poison that dulled their senses. tied up to a monument as the last embodiment of the old flame. then doused in gasoline and left to burn for the sin of existing. for challenging them. for calling for more than this. i don't know why. i don't know what. fight or run or sit and sob. i can't. not anymore. that sadness never enabled. it never helped. it just ate and ate and ate. fed on my anger and my happiness and my fear. reached up and wrapped its tendrils around my brain like some eldritch creature. it dictated you obeyed. does it matter now? did it ever? you tell me when we passed from dictation to repetition in such a way that nullified your strength. that moment when he fell. no sooner than that. when we saw it coming. when the creature clad in gold crawled into our court and captured the bird in its cage. i still remember its song. it was so beautiful.

We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?