i understand your hyper collective might that shines brightly in computerized, higher order, ‘divine’, mindscape, digital shrine regions and although it is indubitably triumphant in commandeering mountain summit climaxes, my tiny psyche could not afford to climb i’m inclined to deny the utility said collective pioneers, advertises and allegedly designed kaczynski, though nefariously violent and lacking certain common insights, got one thing right don’t you see? winter kept us warm stress kept us calm tragedy was humbling pain kept us grateful do you want to know how to spot a shit head? burn a flag and see who cries neglect your children, until they resent you lacerate so their nest turns to tomb facilitate their death they’ll chaperon their own renewal and that’s growth i am grateful for the enemies we share in contrast to such axiomatic conflict our trivial differences are almost flattering idiosyncrasies and i was grateful for my father’s flaws for they dimmed his godlike luminosity down to a comforting glimmer one i could hold a candle to and supply my own shadow i’m a stranger in a graceless age where civility hides in quietude and the domain of discourse resides solely in the discarnate like telegraphs to the dead this cybernated witchcraft ostracizes us tragically unlearned old dogs and so perhaps as a temperate rebellion my affinity for prepossessing primroses and lavish landscapes for silent boscages and honorable solitude has been consequently inflated loud, dizzying latticework i stand firmly linear in contrast to the topsy-turvydom

dearest, shoot your locals try hell worship and set fire to all of our traditions scorch the flat scally-capped, townie backwoods god damn i froth at the mouth for your carnage carnage lovely carnage promise me you’ll wage or i’ll stay war on fascist ingrates and i’ll worship you for life surely you’ll bridge the abyss between gods cottage and our melancholy hollow and triumphantly cauterize the profound lacerations of a haunted childhood i wasn’t born again i was bred i watch you gallivant through the ice age with admirable shamelessness and i am in awe i always feel so close to god when... we kill we kill pigs we kill pigs at random the tally next to my love’s every condition has been x’ed with lustrous ferocity when i’m by your side i grasp this transcendent virtue that triumphantly guides yet cradles the thirsts of my misanthrope i want to drink your grand thoughts and surrender to your most punishing introspections you’ve got the kind of mind that’s nothing shy of divine that’s violently sublime and privately mine i’d slit every throat of my own kin if it meant i could be warmed again by the heat from your skin i miss you and i am yours, amen

then stroke your cock with their blood oh baby i need you and once we’ve massacred the masses we’ll crown ourselves supreme leaders they can’t sacrifice shit they don’t have it stand tall and mighty flex on the poor with sapphire and pendants everybody, everyday got something to say oh how brave you must be hear, say can i tell you about these dreams i keep having i know people who talk about their dreams are real cunts but i promise i’m different it starts off i’m a prisoner in a penal colony i don’t know who runs the show i bet they’re into some fascist shit but i can’t decipher the insignias one night, soldiers come to wake me up they take me out of my bunk bring me to a shed on top of a hill chained to the shed was a family of five mother and father of three children soldier puts a gun to my head and says “you watch this” "this is what we do to those who object our ways" and as he says this, the soldier on the roof of the shed pours a vat of acid on the family of five below they are screaming the acid is melting them i can see bone, muscle and blood as their skin dissolves and it felt dishonorable to look away with every moment that they melt away, they squirm more violently to try and get free i watch as they melt into steam finally, the father breaks free and he runs towards me and screams "help! help!" i say "i cant help you man, i don't know what is happening" he grabs me and we roll down the hill and the whole world dissolves into a white void we role into a featureless abyss he’s melting here now, i’m melting and we tumble to nothing and then i wake up

hold your tongue, or else we cut it off dare i speak, lest my lips form the work of zealous seamstresses? will their proud butchers amputate me till my body is reduced to a lumbering pudgy throw pillow? will i serve them my heart in a reluctant, last gesture? as long as i have breath i vow to blaspheme i do not negotiate with tyrants talk is vanilla i much prefer violence and painting the omnipresent white wash red with your cuck blood there’s nothing i like more than igniting polite society my facts kindling to their feelings i enrolled in a lecture series on giving a shit there’s no growth like neglect for years there was an impassable tundra between self and caring what? with all the ubiquitous vendettas and rancor it seemed natural to retreat into the inviolable vale of indifference when the world spat down on me o! how i raised my lips to those spiteful skies tongued perched for missile launch a nihilistic trebuchet and hurled forth my artisan concoction of violent bile and earnest disdain inspiration greeted me like a benevolent ghost of a long lost relative i never had the pleasure of knowing in life white knights spawned from dark webs to whom i may offend to the fragile vessels who curtail their voyages upon viewing the advisory of an academic tempest to the scholarly cause hunters who flock to the weekly spot-lit macabre in pursuit of cosmic confirmation and chronicles that foster a starry denouement, is being, in it of itself, not meaning enough?

i have a friend but only i can see him i have a friend but nobody can see him as you crouch behind the gun im putting duct tape on my region and make my problems become your problems do what he says we have to do what he says coping with your juggalo face tattoos throat cut is not my breed though i was bred cut throat tortured florist among horrid stormers and poor sordidness sentimentality turned morbidity is more sinister than the latter alone i'm a callous amalgam, although sardonic in public more haughty than the inhabitants of "proud to be an american" shanty towns well i'm proud to be the error unsolved by their regression models there is strength in strangeness, my friend it's the anomalous who emerge unscathed from the armageddon rubble, who characterize the mysteries beyond the prison walls and champion ambitious horizons i'd rather be exiled by the state via sawed off than swept under the rug with the other lifeless orderly, not as a royal employer, but rather as a stoic loyalist, i obey as the tempest storms our green and pleasant lands many deckhands cower in meek desertion my resolution, however, staunchly persists at the helm such “satanic” mills yield a heavenly refuge from the claws of natural disarray, cold nature, formidable nature; she’s more hunter than mother less shepherd than wolf forget not, child, our divine instructions forever chiseled on ancient tablets forget not, thy father who forged you of blood from his hands old soul and wholesome homeowner not a know it all, but a know enough so what makes me so formidable? i cut a tunnel through my hedge maze now i can briskly barrel past exasperating convolutions and pesky nuances i shy from the domain of details where devils reside and i strive for the almighty in grand scheme designs i clear the clutter from my passenger seat the rubble i pretend is you still with me and not dying another abscess for another close minded mother to find i clear the wreckage from my life in unassuming blame they’re right

get me up out of this hell-haunted frost’ she thought as her dead leaves stocked her roots stretched past the basement man cave hybridized with the concrete weaved with drywall and polyvinyl chloride soldered to washers, welded to dryers he kept his prize in a candlelit safehouse and when company came she was moved to a plexiglass display gorgeous and unwillingly cuffed, under that pig-friendly sneezeguard still he impeded her leap like the lingering of winter keeping her jump bound in a vault this careful, cryptic grace is devoid of connection she’d rather burn in childish exuberance no matter how embarrassing if only, but appearances must be maintained for her children’s sake for church and orwellian state the wail of a solitarily confined extrovert is impossible to articulate like a new wavelength or a nightmare attempts to voice her wholehearted convictions they were swatted by his brutish buffoons arrogant cheers of chimp-savvy, tabletop dominion in every sip of wine she’d die a little inside ‘this roast is exquisite’, i’d humbly remark ‘the salmon’; ‘so fresh’ and ‘cooked to perfection’ sure i’d fall victim to her glance more covertly interrogative than suspicious though nonetheless perfectly socially obligatory o! peacocks of hera, pray i be seen as a modest anomaly pray her instincts don’t assign me to the ranks of ungrateful beta baboons and pitiless swine after the guests would leave, they’d climb into a king-sized divider and as night died she’d lie awake on her side by daybreak he’d champion through majestic horizons a potbelly potted in a black audi a4 in his absence, her heart would wander through spectra of youthful folly and plastic porn kingdoms o! glory to thee! cattle-fed, poolboy adonis join her in dishonesty for an afternoon in olympia though only a crass abstraction da vinci sketched her a phallic scaffold; born and bred in athens no she’d never be so selfish in action it hurt her enough in fantasy for the ‘self’ no matter how beautiful and useful is still profoundly illusory and hers would be lost among the hydrangeas and salvias amongst the plotted moss and thoughtful blocks a solemn botanist engulfed in cell walls a loyal defeatist adhered to drosera tethered to honey-soaked ganglia retiring to a cruel spring’s sundew dying.

my mind is a dry county, still the residents complain of a looming darkness, palpable darkness like a plague black saliva that hangs form wicker tendons a sordid moss that feeds on crops and leaches their harvest fierce dark piercing stinging like the second hand on a waiting room clock i am accustomed to the stench of my quarantine blame it on olfactory depression blame it on defeat, on the innate tendency to yield i've built a cloister on a cemetery mound and this is the hill i will die on they wont need to parade me out for all to gawk at for a neighborhood spectacle in morbidity just plant me in the red-ironed, hemlock sea "that wasn't me, that was my disease" i'm sorry, but i fail to see the distinction "turns out it's not all about will power" the lecturer exalted "there's a science to addiction" but of course, there's science to will power too i've grown to resent those who enjoy things i harbor thoughts of monstrous violence i ignore those who lend a hand and i hurl spit at sunlight i drink straight from hatred and i've sunk my teeth in lips of her whore mouth a mouth that thunders sultry, vituperative utterances verbal savagery she curses like god's gravedigger as impossibly vast nothingness stares back at her and i emulate like a timid pupil our heavenly father is a terrible drunk bedeviled by embarrassment with palsy hands he crafted us as an extension of his folly there's no award for your endurance all this hurt was in vain and all of your rebellions were manufactured

this worldly voyage through temptation's domain has proven motion is as hurtful as it is absurd zeno walked gladly to grave and obsessed through impossible days hell is no post-mortem sentence that burns your eternal essence it's in every stark step and breath hell is between here and death and in the face of impending behemoths i am shielded by paper-thin virtue i am revived by deposited sin i am reborn as anguish begins calmed by a plethora of misquotes and comforting, proverbial superlatives though who am i? who am i? to deny your survival? or the tenets upon which it rests?